100 OneShots 100 Pairings 100 Songs
by Flamingo Bubbles
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin. A collection of 100 one-shots, each concerning a different couple and based on a different song. Ch. 30: Lui x Yuuma
1. Gakupo x Neru

**A/N:** Alright, so I'm starting a new personal project. This "story" will be a collection of 100 one-shots, each focusing on a different Vocaloid pairing, and each either loosely or closely based off a song. This story will be updated daily (hopefully) until all 100 one-shots are complete. Now, the pairings I picked were absolutely random, so you'll see some _very_ bizarre pair-ups. If you have any questions (either about what the heck this is or about the stories themselves), don't hesitate to ask! Oh also, before each chapter I'll note what pairing is in this chapter and the song and artist the chapter is based upon. Thanks if you read all this and I hope you enjoy!

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><p>Song: Ich bin Musik - Patrick Stanke<p>

Couple: GakupoxNeru

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><p>"In conclusion, it can be said that cellphones have not only revolutionized the way we communicate, but they've also revolutionized the way in which we live. Thank you."<p>

She gave a hasty nod of her head and tried her best to pull off a slight smile. She could tell already that it looked more like a scowl. Both her attempt at friendliness and her speech were met with soft, but most definitely not enthusiastic, applause.

"Thank you very much Neru," The professor said as she stood from her seat at her desk. Wasting no time, Neru scampered away from the lectern she was standing at and back to her seat in the back of the classroom.

"Well," The professor said as her eyes wandered to the clock hanging on the wall, "I thought we would have time to get through the rest of our speeches, but it looks like we'll have to finish them up next time. Class is dismissed."

As soon as those words were out of the professor's mouth, Neru scooped up her bag, yanked her cellphone from her pocket and practically bolted for the door. She always hated the stupid speech class she was required to take; why did she need to learn to speak well if she lived in the age of contact via technology?

"Stupid," She mumbled to herself as she flipped through the messages on her phone. She found nothing out of the ordinary: Haku was asking her where she had hidden her secret stash of alcohol, Gumi was being as obnoxious and bubbly as ever and Miku was telling her all about this outfit she saw in the mall that was just too adorable not to buy.

With a skillfully quick hand, she typed a reply to each before she shoved the phone back into her pocket. Her steps, which were already at a break-neck pace, sped up even further. Public speaking always put her in a bad mood.

At least she was heading to her secret haven to get away for a while.

As she continued to speed on her way, the tall, gray buildings of the college campus gave way to the green of trees and bushes. It only took her a few more minutes before she was surrounded completely by trees, but still she kept on her way.

It wasn't until she reached a clearing with a large stump in the middle that she stopped.

As she looked at the silent, undisturbed stump, she couldn't help but give the smallest, completely unstrained, smile. It was her haven to get away from it all.

Just to make sure, she pulled out her phone. Good, there was no connection; no one would be able to contact her until she wanted them to.

She quickly moved to the stump and sat down with a slight plop. Out of her bag, she produced a pad filled with blank sheet music and a stub of a pencil that was covered with teeth marks. She flipped through the first few pages which were filled with a combination of quickly scribbled notes and half-finished expression markings.

When she reached the first blank page, she closed her eyes for a moment and listened to the sound of the world around her. As she absorbed all the sounds of the world, she couldn't help but imagine what her friends would say if they knew of this little ritual of hers. She was known as the "technology junkie" of the group; the one that never went anywhere without her cellphone.

But the moments when Neru felt the most like herself was when she came to the forest, turned all the technology off and wrote the music she heard in the world. She wasn't required to wear a mask, she wasn't required to be a student or a friend or a responsible adult; she could just be Neru. She could be a girl that loved music more than anything in the world.

Of course, when she went back to the world of technology, reality set back in. She was a college student who had bills to pay and, as such, was on the career path to work in information technology. She knew that truly she wanted to be a musician, to be able to make music every day, but that wasn't nearly "logical" enough. Music didn't put food on the table, money did.

Neru shook her head violently to clear away the dark thoughts of reality. She had come to write music, not brood about reality. She opened her eyes and put her pencil to the paper.

Like always, she wrote with complete abandon. Every note was quickly followed by another as she hummed the tune she was writing under her breath. Occasionally she would scoff, scribble out what she had written, and restart the process once more. She became completely absorbed in the world of music playing out in her head.

"It would make more sense for you to make that note the fifth. It plays with your audience's expectations."

Neru jumped back in shock at the hand that had just jabbed into her paper and the voice that had rang in her ear. She felt the back of her head collide with the front of her attacker's face causing the person to swear loudly in surprise and pain. With a grim sense of satisfaction and a dull, throbbing pain in the back of her head, she jumped off the stump and turned to face her attacker.

She felt her eyes go wide in surprise at the young man that currently stood in front of her, cradling his nose and continuing to swear to himself.

"God dammit! Your head is like a ten pound weight!" He complained loudly as he gingerly touched his nose.

"It's your fault for sneaking up on me," She replied flatly as she narrowed her eyes.

"I didn't expect you to attack me like a banshee woman!"

"I just jerked back out of reflex! It was your fault for being so close!"

"Fine," The young man finally succeeded, "It's my fault. Do you forgive me?"

"No," She said as her frown deepened. There was no way she was going to forgive him. The young man standing in front of her was Gakupo and he was what she called one of the "pampered princes" of the music department. Everyone was just so in love with his talent and his charms that he could do no wrong. Every time Neru saw his face, it ticked her off. If she was honest with herself, she might have admitted that part of that hate sprang from the fact that he was chasing a dream she would never have the opportunity to chase.

Of course she would never be honest with herself.

"We've just met and you can't even forgive me? What kind of courtesy is that?" He asked as he crossed his arms across his chest.

"The kind you deserve."

"You don't even know me!"

"Gakupo Kamui, junior, double majoring in music and musical theater. You're in the top choir along with fronting a band known as Black Daydream. You're currently twenty-one years old, your favorite food is eggplant, after college you-"

"Alright, alright! So you know a lot about me. Does that mean you're a fan or something?"

"No, I'm just good with the internet. Now I'm leaving."

She moved quickly to grab a bag and was just about to sling it on her shoulder when she felt a hand grip her wrist. She spun around to find Gakupo looking at her with a slight smile playing at the corners of his mouth.

"Now just hold on a minute," He said as his eyes glittered playfully, "You know all that stuff about me, I don't find it very fair that I know nothing about you."

"Then look it up on the internet," She replied, "That's what a 'normal' person would do."

"Yeah, but you see, I was never much good with the internet. I always liked talking better."

"Then too bad 'cause I'm not talking."

"Then I suppose you don't care what I do with this notebook of sheet music, right?" He asked as he held up the notebook in question with a wide grin on his face. Neru felt her blood boil as she realized for the first time that when she had stood up earlier, she had dropped the notebook on the stump.

"…Bastard," She said as she gave in and sat on the stump. She used all the body language she could to display just how pissed off she was.

"There, was that so hard?" He said as he took a seat next to her on the stump. Neru kept her mouth shut and kept glaring. She thought for a brief moment of snatching the notebook and running as fast as her legs could carry her, but Gakupo was careful to keep it far from her reach. This only made her anger simmer more.

"You know if you don't start talking you'll never get this back."

"You only said that you wanted to know stuff about me. I don't have to answer to your other idiotic whims."

"Oh, nice loophole, you'd make a good lawyer. Well I guess we should start with the basics then. Name, major, age, grade in school; all that good stuff."

"Neru Akita, information technology, twenty, sophomore," She answered through gritted teeth.

"I see, then how about bust, hip and waist size?"

Neru immediately stood up. She couldn't stand another minute with this idiot lecher. She didn't care anymore what happened to the notebook; he could publish it for the whole world to see.

"Hey I was just joking! Don't you have a sense of humor?" She heard him call from behind her. She ignored his words and continued storming out of the forest. Her day of tranquil music writing had been sorely ruined.

A note; a singular note rang out clear and strong in the forest glen.

She wanted to keep walking; she _willed_ her feet to keep walking. But when it concerned music, her heart was in control, not her head.

The voice moved to another note and another. The strong, male voice carried the tune throughout the forest and, to Neru's ears, the song seemed to weave in and out of the trees, meshing perfectly with the nature that surrounded them.

The song only went on for a few seconds more before the voice cut off. It wasn't like there was any sort of resolution to the song; it just sort of ended.

Of course, that was because Neru hadn't written the ending to the song yet.

What Gakupo had been singing was the song she was writing.

"…You're right," She said, trying her best to keep her voice as hard as iron, "I should change that note to the fifth."

"See? I told you it would work better."

"Then give it back to me," She said as she spun around, her arm outstretched towards the older boy. Surprise showed on his face before it melted into a smile.

"You must think I'm really stupid. The minute I hand this back to you, you'll go running off and I'll never see you again."

"If you really want to find me, you could always use the internet."

"Ah, but the internet is so difficult to understand and use properly. I think I would need a good teacher to be able to find you."

"Good luck with that."

"Although…" He said with a sly grin.

Faster than Neru could calculate, the boy closed that gap between the two of them. When he spoke, his breath was as soft as a feather on her ear.

"You found so much information about me you must be amazing at it. Won't you be my teacher…Miss. Neru…"

In one swift movement, Neru grabbed the notebook from Gakupo's hands and back stepped several inches away from him. She gave a deep frown as she hugged the newly retrieved notebook to her chest.

"You smell like eggplants; that's disgusting."

With her message delivered, she spun on her heel and ran out of the forest as quickly as possible. A walk that took minutes earlier that day seemed to fly by in seconds. She only allowed her feet to slow when she reached the pavement of the real world once more. Still hugging her notebook tightly to her chest, she headed in the direction of her dorm.

But try as she might to shake Gakupo's voice loose from her head, it kept playing over and over. His voice just seemed to fit perfectly with the music she had made.

As her sneakers continued to slap against the pavement, she felt a hot blush begin to spread unbidden on her face. It wasn't until that very moment that she realized that the whole time she had been writing the song, she had been envisioning Gakupo's singing it.

She had been writing music for him.

In the place where she threw all the masks of the world away, when she allowed herself to be immersed in what she truly loved, she had been thinking of him. She had been composing for him.

"Stupid eggplant smelling pampered prince," She muttered darkly to herself as she continued to clutch her music notebook to her chest. But no matter how many times her head scolded her heart, she couldn't get her heart to stop fluttering in her chest and her cheeks to stop glowing red.

Tomorrow she would have to find a new spot to write music; that spot in the forest wasn't safe anymore. She would still be in the forest, she wouldn't give Gakupo the satisfaction of making her leave, but this time it would be somewhere far back and hidden, a place where no one could find her.

But as she began to climb the steps that lead to her dorm, she couldn't help but wonder how many times Gakupo had been in those woods and how well he knew them. A small part of her heart was whispering that maybe the place she picked shouldn't be _too _well hidden or _too_ far back. Of course, that voice was quickly squashed by the reasonable voice in her mind.

"Stupid…" She muttered one more time for good measure before she shoved her music notebook in her backpack and headed back into reality where the mind spoke louder than the heart.

But she knew that tomorrow, she would head back to the forest; the place where her heart was the only thing she answered to; the place where she had been composing music for Gakupo.


	2. Big Al x Prima

**A/N:** And here's the second one. This one ended up being a little bit darker and a little bit...weirder? Well whatever the case, I'm really just writing for my own enjoyment, so I'm sure very odd chapters like this will pop up ever now and again. If you take the time to read this, thank you very much and I hope you enjoy my extreme oddness!

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><p>Song: Strange Magic - Electric Light Orchestra<p>

Couple: Big AlxPrima

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><p>With a great swing, the man crashed his empty glass on the table. The ice-cubes within jumped and a few managed to escape their man-made prison. The man didn't care; he shoved the glass towards the bartender.<p>

"Give me another one," He managed to slur out. His vision was beginning to swim before his eyes.

"Sir, I…think that you should stop now," The concerned bartender's voice said, "If you have any more, you're going to become ill."

"I'm the only one that can tell me when to stop!" The patron roared as he shoved the glass right under the bartender's nose, "Now get me a scotch."

With a reluctant sigh, the bartender took the glass. "Yes sir," he said before he moved down the bar to collect the scotch for the disgruntled patron. The man had been coming more and more frequently and even though the bartender knew his name was Al, the patron insisted that he call him "sir" and act as if the two of them had never met before.

"_Just another strange quirk of a drunk,"_ the bartender assumed as he brought the now full glass back to where Al was sitting.

"Here you are sir, one scotch."

In one movement, Al snatched up the glass and gulped down the scotch. The empty glass crashed back down on the table once more, but this time Al didn't request another drink. Instead, he stared pensively with blood-shot eyes at the glass filled with nothing but ice.

"Hey," He said in a low, gravelly voice, "You know anything about opera singers?"

"Opera singers? No…not really sir."

"You know what it means if they keep showing up in your dreams whenever you go to bed drunk?"

"I…can't say that I do…" The bartender said slowly as he looked at the man that continued to stare at the glass. Was he just fooling around or was it just the drink getting to his head? The bartender had seen and heard a wide array of bizarre things when people were drunk, but seeing opera singers was definitely something out of the ordinary.

"She keeps showing up every night," Al said as his body began to slowly sway, "She's got these big, green eyes and this big mess of curly black hair. Only way I know she's an opera singer is she won't shut up about it."

With each word, his voice got quieter and his swaying increased. The bartender knew exactly what was going to happen and he closed his eyes with a deep sigh. A few seconds later, he heard what he was expecting.

THUD

When he opened his eyes, Al was on the floor, dead to the world. With another deep sigh, the bartender picked up the phone from behind the bar and dialed the number of a taxi service.

As he waited for the person on the other side to pick up, he drummed his finger on the polished wood of the bar as he looked down at the inebriated man.

"It's the third time this week…if you don't stop you're going to kill yourself…"

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><p>He could tell that he was dreaming. Whenever he was dreaming, everything seemed to have a fuzzy edge to it that never went away, no matter how much he rubbed at his eyes.<p>

Once more, his dream brought him to the opera house. He couldn't help but smile. It seemed like he had gotten drunk enough for the dream to appear. He had tried countless times to call up the dream in sober sleep, but apparently there was just something about sleeping drunk that brought the dreams to him.

So he drank until he passed out and then he dreamed.

His dream once more started in the opera house. He had dreamed this dream enough times that he instantly recognized the dressing room of the most renowned singers of the opera house; a woman by the name of Prima.

"I'm taking the day off," He heard her announce in a huff a second before he caught sight of her. He watched as she haphazardly threw a coat over the long red dress she was wearing and headed for the door.

"B-But Miss. Prima!" A short, balding man called after her, "You have a show tonight! What are we supposed to do about that?"

"Let my understudy take over. That's what they're there for right? They perform the part when I don't want to!"

With her message delivered, Al watched as she headed out the door of her dressing room and quickly made her way through the opera house. Al couldn't help but raise his brows in surprise. This was completely uncharacteristic for Prima; she was usually obsessive about being the best of the best and she never wanted to take days off.

As soon as Prima stepped foot out of the opera house, the vision before Al began to fade and fuzz at the edges. Soon, the image was so disoriented he couldn't make heads or tails of if. He blinked furiously in an attempt to regain the image once more, but to no avail.

Then suddenly, the image was clear again. But whereas before he had been seeing Prima leaving the opera house, he was now looking down at a field filled with golden grain that blew lazily in a breeze. The rapidly brightening sun announced the approach of sunrise as Al allowed his eyes to scan the field.

He instantly found Prima standing in the middle of the field, simply staring into space.

Al had no idea how long she had been standing there, but as he watched her now, she didn't move. She simply stared with unblinking eyes in the direction of the rising sun and seemed to be waiting.

_"But for what?"_ Al couldn't help but wonder to himself.

He didn't have to wait long. As soon as the sun crested the horizon, he watched as Prima opened her mouth and began to sing. Al watched in mute surprise. He had heard Prima sing many times before in the opera house, but out here, singing in the just rising sun in a field of grain, her voice seemed sweet and softer than before.

The note of the song suddenly became strained and then broke off altogether to be replaced with a new sound.

The sound of Prima crying softly to herself.

Al was taken aback by the display. In the time he had known her, or rather observed her, he had known Prima to be a driven, strong woman who wouldn't take no for an answer. Now in this field of gold, she was breaking down and crying like a small child.

He wanted so badly to comfort her; more than anything, in that moment he wanted to place a hand on her shoulder and tell her that everything was going to be alright. Whatever she was going through, he would be there to help her.

But of course, it was a dream. She was a figment of his alcohol saturated brain.

Al shook the thought loose furiously and reached out a hand. He didn't care that it was just some messed up dream, there was a woman crying in front of him and he was going to comfort her if possible.

Of course, from his position on high, he couldn't touch her shoulder, but he liked to imagine that the sentiment was reaching her somehow.

"Don't worry Prima, you'll be fine," He muttered quietly to the figment of his imagination.

"Who's there?" He heard her call as she spun around. Al felt himself go stiff in anticipation; was there someone in the field with Prima?

But as his eyes swept the field from his bird eyes' view, he saw no one.

"…I guess it was just my imagination," The girl said as she once more turned towards the rising sun. She gave a few quick rubs at her now blood-shot eyes to wipe away the last remnants of tears.

"But…" She continued quietly to herself, "I could have sworn someone was talking…they told me…I'll be fine."

Al felt his eyes go wide in utter shock. She heard him; he could interact with this opera singer in his dreams.

"Yeah…" He heard Prima say under her breath, "I'll be fine…"

Al wanted to say more; he wanted to communicate with her once again, but the image became blurry once more.

"No, dammit! I want to talk to her!" He yelled rebelling against his own dream. But the dream didn't heed his wishes as the image melted away completely and Al was left with nothing but a black void.

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><p>His head was pounding. The weak, morning light streaming in through the thin crack in his eyelids didn't help this matter. With a deep groan, Al managed to pull himself from where he lay. As he looked about him, he realized that he had somehow made his way back to his apartment.<p>

"Someone must have felt sorry for my drunk ass," He said groggily before he realized the effort to speak out loud wasn't worth the pain it sent lancing through his head.

He leaned back carefully on his bed as he cradled his head in his hands and worked to shut out every chink of the morning light. Maybe if he just laid here for a little bit, the pain would go away and he could get on with his life.

But as he continued to lie in bed nursing his pounding headache, his thoughts inadvertently wandered to the dream. For about a month now, any time he went to bed drunk, or rather passed out from drinking, he had seen a dream with the opera singer known as Prima. It was never the same dream; there were always different event, but every time they centered around Prima.

But last night was the first time he actually interacted with her; the first time he made any contact.

_"Is it even possible for a dream to show up that many times?"_ Al wondered to himself, _"Does it mean anything special that I was able to talk to her last night even though I've never been able to before?"_

He recalled her green eyes, filled with tears.

_"…Why was she crying?"_ He asked himself.

He just had to find out.

With a monumental amount of effort, Al dragged himself from his bed and into the kitchen. Working quickly, he pulled a bottle of cheap vodka from the shelf. He didn't care what booze it was, he just had to get drunk quickly.

He just had to find out what was making Prima cry.

He took huge, heaping swigs of the vodka as his still recovering brain and body protested loudly and physically. Al pushed everything away except for the feeling of the coveted liquid slipping down his throat.

Once more, he felt the intoxication take over as a silly grin painted his face. It wouldn't be long now; soon he would be able to figure out just what was making Prima cry. And when he found out, he would do everything in his power to put a stop to it.

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><p>He was once more in the opera house; a floating spectator of everything that happened below him. He was staring down at Prima's room where the girl stood as a seamstress poked and prodded at her with a needle as she fitted her in a dress.<p>

"Just a little more tucking on the waist…" The seamstress muttered to herself, "Miss. Prima…have you lost weight again?"

"…I suppose it's possible," Came the faint reply. Al was taken aback. This new subded, almost broken, voice was in complete contrast to the Prima he had known over the past month.

"Now I know you don't want to hear this, but it's not good for you to weigh so little. Before you know it you'll waste away to nothing but bones," The seamstress said as she stepped back to evaluate the fit of the dress.

Prima gave a weak smile in response, "Thanks for your advice. Now I have a question to ask; can I trust you with a secret?"

"Of course you can! I've kept my fair share of secrets in my life! And even if I do talk, they'll probably just brush it off as an old woman's ramblings."

With an uncertain nod of her head, Prima turned her back to the older woman and lifted up her shock of black, curly hair. Both Al and the seamstress inhaled sharply in shock.

The entire back of Prima's neck and the area around her shoulders were covered in bruises. Some of them looked to be old and fading; others seemed to be fresh, possibly from just the other day.

"I have to wear my hair up for this performance, but I don't want anyone to know about this. Do you think you could help me powder it or somehow change the dress to cover it up?"

"Bu-But !" The seamstress said as she recovered her voice, "Whatever happened to you?"

"I…don't want to talk about it. Please…just help me…" Prima responded as she turned to the woman with pleading eyes.

The seamstress stared at her for a few seconds before she gave an uncertain nod of her head, "If I raise the back of this up, we should be able to cover most of the bruises."

Suddenly, the world turned fuzzy around Al and he could tell the scene was shifting. Her braced himself for what might come next. The image of Prima covered in bruises had shaken him more than he cared to admit; for a reason he couldn't explain, it made his hands sting and his body run hot with both anger and guilt.

As the scene cleared once more, Al realized he was floating above the main stage of the opera house and a performance was occurring. He instantly recognized the voice of Prima, but there was something…off…about her performance. Her high notes seemed strained; there was no emotion behind her phrasing or words. It was as if she was singing everything on autopilot.

Al was certain the audience noticed, but they still gave a round of polite applause. As the curtain fell for intermission, Al's eyes followed Prima; he realized that her body was shaking with barely restrained sobs. He could hear the quiet murmuring of her cast members behind her as they casted curious looks her direction.

Without a word to any of them, Prima headed to the nearest backstage exit and left the building as quickly as humanly possible. To her credit, the tears didn't start rolling down her cheeks until she was out in the streets, away from the prying eyes of the theater.

Al wanted desperately to comfort her, like last time, but all he could do at this point was watch Prima run head-long through the streets. Her run stopped abruptly as her toes caught on a cobble and she came crashing down on the pavement. He heard her cry out in pain before she buried her face in her hands and collapsed into a crying heap on the pavement.

Al was just about to throw away all his misgivings and reach out his hands to encircle her in an embrace when he heard the sound of a footstep. Apparently Prima heard it also, for she sharply raised her head to see who had appeared.

"Prima?" The figure ventured as he looked at the woman on the ground.

"No!" Came the shrill response from Prima. Al watched in shock as she quickly backed away from the other figure in the alley. She escaped as far as she could until her back hit the solid brick behind her. She looked about furiously for an escape, but there was none to be had. Any move she tried to make, her attacker would quickly be on her.

"No, No, No, NO!" She continued to cry as the other figure slowly approached.

"I'm not going to hurt you, no need to cry." The voice that issued from the figure was comforting, almost soothing. But Prima just continued to shake her head as tears filled her eyes.

"NO!" Her scream pierced the night, causing the image Al was watching to shatter.

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><p>Al awoke with a start and jerked his head back so quickly, he smashed it into the cabinet behind him. The shock quickly woke up his stomach, and before he had a chance to do anything else, he puked up the alcohol he had just ingested.<p>

"What the hell was that? What happened? I can't- I can't stop now! I've got to help her," Al said desperately as he searched for some kind of alcohol, any kind, that would allow him back into the dream realm where Prima was. He couldn't just leave her in that alley.

All his searching produced for him a half-filled bottle of whisky. He quickly tore the cap off and began to chug the sacred liquid. He couldn't even taste it as it went down his throat; all he felt was the burning, cleaning sensation of the alcohol running through his system.

He had no idea how much he drank, he only cared that the world was growing fuzzier and the feeling of slipping into a drunken stupor was quickly taking over.

As his last shred of consciousness subcame to the drink, he couldn't help but hope that he would make it to Prima in time.

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><p>The first thing Al was aware of was the fact that he was viewing the dream this time from his own perspective. He wasn't looking on high anymore; he was on the street, the building standing tall around him. After viewing so much of the dream from on high, it was an odd feeling to be an active participant in the dream.<p>

The second thing he was aware of was the crumpled figure before him and the faint smell of blood.

"…What the hell happened here?" He whispered quietly.

There was no response besides a quiet sound from the figure. It was at this point that he realized the person in front of him was Prima. His heart leapt into his chest as he took her into his arms.

"Hey! Are you alright? Speak to me!" Al called desperately as he cradled her softly. His efforts were rewarded with her eyes fluttering open. Her green eyes were clouded as her lips worked to form words.

"Don't move! I'll get you somewhere safe!" He said desperately as he looked about him. He had no idea where he was or the closest place he could take Prima that was safe, but that wouldn't stop him from looking.

His desperate search was silenced by the feeling of soft lips on his own. The contact lasted no more than a second, but it was enough to draw Al's attention back to the slim figure in his arms.

"You've been the one watching over me for the past month, haven't you?" She said softly as a soft smile filled her face.

"You…You could tell I was there?" Al said quietly.

"I could tell someone was there and they were watching over me, but I didn't know who. When I saw you there, I guess I just…knew. I wanted to say thank you…before I go."

"W-Wait! Who did this to you!" Al called desperately as he gripped her tightly.

"What good would knowing that…do for you…?" Prima asked quietly as her head fell to her side. Al didn't even have to check; he could tell that she had died.

The dream was over.

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><p>"This is just awful sir…" The young man said as he picked up on of the many empty bottles that littered the kitchen.<p>

"I know this is your first suicide scene rookie, but keep it under control," The older, more experienced officer answered him.

"I-I know sir, it's just…" The young man's voice trailed off as he looked at the body that lay up against the cabinet with a bottle still gripped desperately in his hand. The apparent accidental suicide was reported just about an hour ago.

"'it's just'…what exactly?" The older officer asked.

"…What could drive someone to do this?" The younger officer said quietly as his eyes remained fixed on the body.

"I honestly couldn't tell you. There are some sick people in the world and, as they say, the dead tell no tales. But all we can do is hope that wherever the hell he ends up after this life, he's happy there."


	3. Piko x SFA2 Miki

**A/N:** On to number 3! This is my first time writing for both Miki and Piko, so it took me a while to settle on what personality I like for them. In the end, we get...whatever this is. It's definitely more fluffy than the previous one. Well then, I hope you enjoy!

I would also like to take this time to thank GReeN and Monkers for their reviews. Honestly, I didn't expect anyone to review this, so it was sweet of you guys. Thank you very much!

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><p>Song: May I - Trading Yesterday<p>

Couple: PikoxSF-A2 Miki

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><p>He couldn't stand them. He just couldn't stand <em>any<em> of them.

Well, maybe that wasn't true. Luka was alright; she seemed more level headed than the rest of the insane bunch of people he was supposed to consider his "family". He couldn't help but scoff at the sentiment. The company thought that if they set up a giant mansion where they could all live together as a "family", it would foster a feeling of closeness that would carry over into their singing.

He had been there for only two week and he could already name several traits about each of the other members of the house that grated his nerves.

The worst was a girl by the name of Miki.

Even just thinking her name sent shivers of disgust through his system. In his opinion, she had the most abrasive personality in the world and he was pretty sure that she had nothing but cotton shoved in her head where her brain should have been.

She was one of those constantly peppy types who always seemed to have a good word for everyone and a wide grin on her face. She had notion of the concept "shut up" and her favorite pastime consisted of running and hugging people from behind.

He supposed that if he were to describe it in a singular word, it would be obnoxious.

Oh, there were other members of the house that acted like that, like Gumi to name one. But whereas Gumi understood that there was a time to calm down and be quiet, Miki on the other hand had no such notion.

"Piko! What are you doing being all boring and looking out the window?"

Piko felt himself twitch involuntarily at the sound of the voice, or rather screech, of the individual he had just been contemplating.

_"What was the English idiom Tonio was talking about the other day? Something about thinking about the devil calls him?"_ Piko thought before he turned around to face Miki. When he did turn to look at her, he made sure his eyes were kind and betrayed none of his inner thought.

"Oh, Miki, I didn't see you there," Piko said politely as he met the girl's energetic, sparkling eyes. He saw nothing but idiocy in those eyes; not even the smallest spark of intellect.

"Well of course you didn't see me there! You were busy being boring and staring out the window at the grass growing outside!" She replied energetically as she grinned broadly.

_"It's called a figure of speech, figure out what it is dumbass,"_ Piko thought to himself.

But all he said aloud was, "I suppose that's true." He even managed to tack on a light, good-natured laugh. It was all fabricated, of course, but there was no way Miki would ever be able to figure that out.

"You should smile wider Piko! Do things other than staring out a window! Come on Piko! Smiiiiiiile!"

Miki indicated what she wanted him to do by grabbing the corner of his cheeks and attempting to spread his smile. Piko felt displeasure trill through him; if there was one pet-peeve he had, it was people touching his face.

"I'm just fine with my smile," Piko responded coldly as he slapped Miki's hands away from his face. As he watched Miki's eyes spread in surprise, he realized that he had let his façade drop for a moment.

"I mean, mine can never be as wide as yours is Miki," He said with another light, fake laugh. He watched as Miki's characteristic smile returned to her face, but he could of sworn he saw a flicker of doubt in her eyes.

_"Of course I'm just imagining things. She doesn't have enough in her head to even entertain the concept of doubt."_

"Of course you can't smile as wide as I can!" Miki's screech woke him rudely from his reflecting, "I practice every day to make sure I can smile super widely for the fans!"

"That's nice, maybe I should practice also," Piko responded with a soft smile.

"Most definitely! If you work really, really hard, you'll be able to smile super wide through any situation! Now if you'll excuse me, I've gotta go practice my smiling!" And with that, Miki flitted out of the room quickly and Piko was left in silence once more.

He looked through the door Miki had just left through and he couldn't help but be mildly surprised.

"Did she…just say something that was mildly intelligent and even a little bit…profound?" Piko said aloud with mild surprise coloring his dripping sarcasm.

"…Must be my imagination," He said as he once more turned back to looking out the window. The rain that ran down the window was interesting to watch and, mercifully, it was quiet. Piko allowed his eyes to trace the decent of one raindrop as it quickly joined up with another and made its rapid decent down the glass pane.

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><p>With a sigh of annoyance, Piko opened his door and began to head down the hallway. He had forgotten his book downstairs and he found, to his annoyance, he couldn't fall asleep without reading something before heading to bed.<p>

As he passed through the still hallway, he looked at each of the doors he passed. Each was marked with a door tag indicating the resident of the room. For Piko, it only served as a reminder of the most annoying quality of each person.

_"Precocious. Smart-ass. Standoffish. Egomaniac," _Piko mentally recounted each characteristic that he hated as he passed each door, _"Not too bad. Obnoxious. Super Ob-"_

Piko's thought was cut off as he stopped in front of the owner's door that he had been in the process of pegging as "super obnoxious". There was a sound issuing from the room that sharply contrasted with his interpretations of the individual inside.

It was the sound of crying.

He was standing in front of Miki's room and the soft sound of crying was issuing from a small crack in her door.

For a moment, all Piko could do was stare at the door tag that hung innocently. He read over the name once again, but there was no mistaking it. The name on the plate, flanked by pictures of cherries, was definitely Miki.

His curiosity took claim of him as he crept on silent feet towards the crack in the door. When he rounded the corner, his blue eye peered into the room. To his surprise, he found Miki sitting on her bed with her knees pulled up and her face buried behind her knees. Her slim shoulders shook with choked sob.

Piko watched her for a few moments before he backed away from the crack and one more stared at the door.

Then, he simply continued his walk down the stairs.

It wasn't his concern if Miki wanted to cry. That was her business.

But as his feet touched down on the bottom landing, his mind continually conjured the picture of the crying girl. Her breaking down and crying like that was completely uncharacteristic in comparison to the usual ball of annoying, obnoxious energy she was; it wasn't just kind of odd, it was completely out of character. It was almost like he was looking at a completely different person.

Piko finally managed to find and collect the book he had left on the table. With a mild smile, he headed back up the stairs.

_"Now I'll finally be able to sleep,"_ He thought contently as he headed back in the direction of his room.

As he passed Miki's room, he could still hear the soft sound of crying.

Piko walked right past without even pausing to consider the door or the girl inside.

When he reached his room, he quickly made his way back to bed and snuggled down under the soft, gray covers. He was all set for a night of good reading.

As he opened his book and his eyes began to scan the pages, he felt his mind wander once more to the image of Miki crying on her bed. Every time the image plagued his thoughts, he tried to concentrate on the words he was reading, but it only made the image burn deeper into his mind.

"…Dammit," Piko said with annoyance as he snapped the book shut and quickly stood up out of bed. He had been trying for a half-hour to read, but to no avail.

With mildly angry footsteps, he stomped down the hall and didn't stop until he reached Miki's door. Everything was exactly as it was the last time he stopped here. He could still hear the soft sound of her sobs.

_"Just how much crying does this girl have to do?"_ Piko asked himself as he carefully prepared his persona of the sweet, caring boy that he showed to Miki and everyone else in the world.

Stepping forward, he pushed the door open ever so slightly and poked his head into the room.

"Miki?" He called with the kindest voice he could manage without making himself gag.

"W-Who's there?" He heard her respond as her head shot up from her lap. Her eyes were blood-shot, tear stains covered her face and snot ran freely from her nose. It was probably the least attractive thing Piko had ever seen.

"It's Piko," he responded quietly after he finished his evaluation of her looks, "I heard you crying…is it alright if I come in?"

"Piko? O-Of course you can come in!" She responded as her voice slipped back into the obnoxious high pitch that made Piko cringe, "I just got something in my eye, but everything's a-okay now!"

_"Now that's the biggest lie I've ever heard."_

"Are you sure Miki?"

"Yup! I will be 100 percent alright!"

"Now that's the biggest lie I've ever heard."

Piko had no idea why he said that; he was showing his true face to someone. No, not just "someone", to Miki, the person he detested the most in the whole retched house. But now that he had shown his true self, there was no stopping it.

"W-What do you mean? O-Of course I'm fine!" Miki responded, her voice wavering between obnoxiously high-pitched and a normal tone.

"You're lying through your teeth," Piko said as he approached the young girl, "you've been crying for well over a half-hour."

Silence fell in the room as blue-green eyes locked with red ones. Neither made a move as they both waited for something to happen.

"…You're right, everything's not fine…" Miki responded quietly as she stared down at her knees, "I don't think there's ever a time when everything's fine."

For a moment, all Piko could do was look in surprise. The girl that he had decided mere hours ago had no redeeming qualities and nothing within her head but air was no staring pensively and sadly at her knees as her eyes shown with sad intelligence. Was this even the same girl?

"What…do you mean?" Piko heard himself asking as he sat on the edge of the bed.

"Just what I said," She responded in a voice far less high-pitched than her usual tone.

"Well yes, but what do you mean by that."

"I mean…I have to keep pretending. I have to keep being an air-head because that's what people like; that's what they expect of me. Sometimes I don't want to smile, but when I don't, people tell me I'm 'not myself'. So I smile so that everyone knows I'm 'myself'. But really, all I want to do is cry. But since I'm 'not allowed' to do that in public, I cry every night to myself. It's almost therapeutic."

"So you've just been putting on an act this whole time?" Piko asked quietly as he searched the red eyes that seemed to run deep with both sadness and intelligence.

"I don't even know anymore…" Miki said quietly as she averted her eyes, "Sometimes I do it so well, it feels real. Sometimes I think that when I'm an air-head, that's the 'real' me. Sometimes when everyone around you keeps insisting that 'being yourself' is being obnoxious and loud, you start to believe them."

"But that's just…why would you change the way you act so drastically?"

"…You're one to talk," Miki responded as she turned and met his eyes, "You pretend to act all nice, but you really hate it here, don't you? You hate everyone and their 'fabricated' personalities. You're such a good actor, you've fooled everyone. Except, I've been acting as long as you have; I can spot a liar when I see one."

Piko couldn't believe his ears; this woman, no not even a woman, this _girl_ had found him out. He had fooled everyone in his life except for this one, little girl who insisted on acting like a complete idiot in order to please not only the masses, but her friends.

"I guess you're right," Piko said for the first time as he turned his back on Miki, "I really do hate this house and most of the people inside it."

"…We're pretty alike then, aren't we?"

"You hate them?"

"I hate that I feel like I have to act around them; I hate that I feel like I can't be myself."

"Hm, well I just plain hate them. Simple as that."

Miki gave a soft giggle and a second later, Piko felt her back pressing up against his. Previously, he would have found some way to shake off the girl's touch, but somehow, he was alright with it.

"You're a real prick, you know that?" He heard Miki comment from behind him.

"I don't think I've ever heard anyone use that word to describe me. Must be just your opinion."

"Nah, I'm definitely right."

"Then I guess in my prick-ish ways I'll have to inform you that I hate anyone touching me in the slightest. It always feels like they're trying too hard to make some sort of connection with me and I find it obnoxious."

"Is that so? Well, I'll just have to inform you that I don't really care what a prick thinks."

"Maybe you're a bit of a prick yourself then."

"Maybe."

The two of them fell into silence as they sat back to back, each staring at opposite walls. In Piko's mind, he was trying to recall the last time he had felt so unguarded. Honestly, he estimated that it had been years.

As he felt Miki's breathing start to slow, he realized the girl had fallen asleep sitting up.

_"Probably wore herself out with her half-hour straight cry marathon,"_ Piko thought to himself as he moved slowly and lowered the girl down into the bed. Without a backwards glance, he headed out the room and quietly shut the door behind him.

As he walked back to his own room, he could tell that as he listened to the silence of the night that something had shifted and there was no going back. Maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.

At least he had one less annoying air-head to deal with.


	4. Tonio x Rin

**A/N:** Remember in the beginning when I talked about really random pairings? Yeah, this is one of them. Although...in the end I actually quite liked this story. I know that the way I characterize Tonio (which this was the first time I've written for him) is really different than how most people choose to portray him, but I like to imagine that under that opera facade, he's just an awkward, cute boy. Also, this story made me realize that I really like writing characters in war settings; it gives the story a sense of constant danger. Anywho, enjoy this odd couple!

Thanks to the wonderful anonymous reviwer for the review. It made me smile. :)

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><p>Song: No One But You - Mark Seibert<p>

Couple: TonioxRin

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><p>They called her The Golden Angel.<p>

It wasn't difficult to see what earned her that name; her short, blonde hair was in sharp contrast to almost every other girl around her that had long hair that they tied back in a loose ponytails or braids. But it wasn't just the short, blonde hair that set her apart from all the other girls.

She had huge, blue eyes that everyone swore were the same color as the sky. Everyone always claimed that it was good luck for The Golden Angel to follow you on to the battlefield; that the soldiers she treated were always the quickest to heal and she had pulled many men back from the brink of death.

Another factor that added to the mystery was the fact that she never spoke. Rumors flew that she was unable to because her tongue had been cut out or she had been beaten as a child. No one knew if any of them were true, but the possibility was one the men continued to bring up.

These were all nothing but fables, but in a time of war, stories like these helped to keep the men's moral up. They would tell them as they marched or conjure even more miraculous stories under their breath as they prepared to enter enemy territory.

Whatever the case was, with each telling of the story, it became more and more unrealistic until it was the stuff of legends.

But as one soldier watched The Golden Angel flit about treating men after their most recent bout with the enemy, he couldn't quite understand what everyone was going on about. Sure, she moved about efficiently and somehow managed to smile warmly for each soldier she treated, no matter how badly he was disfigured, but many of the other girls also did that.

When he looked at her, all he saw was a fourteen year old girl that had seen far too much death for her own good. She shouldn't have been forced to look at those soldiers and smile; she should have been at home worrying about silly, girlish things.

But the soldier knew that was never the way things worked during the war. His thoughts instantly flew to his kid sister, who was currently God-knows how many miles away, who was serving as a nurse with a different battalion. He took a moment to say a silent prayer for her and her safe return home.

"And there he goes holding the rosary to his lips once more. Let me guess, he's praying for his little sister, right?"

Ignoring the voice for a moment longer, the soldier finished his prayer and concluded with a quiet amen before he turned to the man that had sat down next to him. He couldn't help but give a smile.

"Just because you don't believe in the good Lord above doesn't mean that I don't, Leon," He said with an easy smile.

"No, it just means you're a superstitious old goat," Leon retorted as he also smiled.

"Well I guess all this superstitious old goat can do is continue to pray that the Lord will someday show him the error of his ways."

"And here we go again, talking in circles," Leon said as he threw his arms up in defeat, "Isn't that what we do every single time we sit down and talk."

"If we didn't I'm pretty sure we wouldn't have anything to talk about."

"Really? I'll take you up on that theory. What exactly are you doing out here by yourself? If I remember correctly you took a shot to the shoulder that looked pretty bad."

"It was already treated and anyways, it just grazed me," The other man responded as he subconsciously touched the place where he had been shot that was now safely wrapped in sterile gauze.

"Already?" Leon asked before a smile broke out on his face, "You must have been under the watchful gaze of The Golden Angel."

"You're talking about that too?"

"_Everyone's _talking about it except for you Tonio," The other man retorted.

"Well maybe, but I just don't see it," Tonio said as he once more looked down at the nursing field. The Golden Angel had moved off to smile at yet another soldier as she began examining the terrible gunpowder burns that covered his face and arms. He saw her give a dark grimace as she pulled out a small bottle. Tonio instantly recognized it as chloroform; another man was going to lose a limb.

"And what exactly do you not see?"

"How she's any different. In my opinion, she's just another fourteen year old girl that's had to face far too many horrors in her life. Sure she has blonde hair and blue eyes, but does that make her and angel?"

"So you're willing to believe in this hokey God of yours, but you won't even believe that he might have sent and angel down here to comfort us?"

"God didn't send her," Tonio answered instantly as he fiddled with the rosary around his neck, "He would never sentence a young girl to the horrors of this war."

"He sentenced your sister," came the flat reply from Leon. Tonio's hand instantly fell away from the rosary as he nervously played with grass blades that surrounded him.

"Well yes, but-"

"No buts," Leon said resolutely as he stood up and hauled his reluctant friend with him, "We're gonna test out your little theory that The Golden Angel isn't an angel at all."

"W-Wait! I never agreed to anything!" Tonio called helplessly as his much stronger friend dragged him along.

"You didn't have to agree," Leon retorted as he turned back to his friend and smiled, "I already decided that you're going to let The Golden Angel treat you and then, since you're a God fearing man and all, you'll let me know if she's a true angel or not."

"B-But!" Tonio tried once more in desperate protest, but it was too late. Leon had managed to drag him all the way to where The Golden Angel had just finished treating the man with the gun powder burns on his face. Her eyes spread slightly in surprise as she looked at the one man dragging the other reluctantly behind.

"Sorry to bother you miss," Leon said as he shoved Tonio forward, "My friend here had his shoulder patched up not that long ago and he's been complaining that it hurts. Think you could take a look at him?"

The girl's blue eyes scanned both men over until she settled on Tonio. He couldn't help but shift uncomfortably under her penetrating, unwavering gaze. Finally, she gave a nod of her head as she approached Tonio.

"Sounds good, then I'll be back when you're done," Leon said with an easy grin and a wave. Tonio only responded by giving him a deep glare.

"Ow!" Tonio suddenly said as he felt a pain shoot through his upper arm. He turned his head and looked down to see the young girl pushing gently on his shoulder. She gave a gentle smile as she indicated a patch of grass for him to sit down on.

"Oh, r-right," Tonio said as he plopped down on the grass and quickly averted his gaze from the young girl. He had never been very good at talking with girls; for reasons he couldn't quite explain, they always made him tongue tied.

"So…um…do you think it's serious?" He asked as he attempted to look at anything but the young girl that was treating him.

He got no response, not that he was expecting one, but he could feel her blue eyes looking intently at his face.

Before he realized what was going on, her hands were on the buttons of his shirt, meticulously unbuttoning each in turn.

"W-What are ya' doin' Ma'am?" He managed to stutter out as his face turned a deep shade of crimson, "I-I'm begin' your pardon, but please stop!"

The girl did stop in her unbuttoning endeavors as she looked up at the flustered and embarrassed face of her charge. Tonio wanted to punch himself; he had allowed his southern drawl to work its way out of his system.

"I-I'm sorry," He apologized quickly as he awkwardly cleared his throat, "I grew up in the south. When I get nervous I guess the accent comes back."

His hasty apology was met with a soft giggle that made him turn his head and stare. It was the first time he ever heard her laugh; he was pretty sure it was the first time anyone had ever heard her laugh. It was light and soft and fit perfectly with the image of the girl with wide, blue eyes.

Tonio found himself staring at her and his cheeks burning with a blush. She gave another giggle as she noticed his graze before she lightly tugged on his shirt and then pointed to his shoulder.

"Oh…r-right, you just wanted to get my shirt off to look at my shoulder…" Tonio said as he felt hot embarrassment run through his entire body. He watched as Rin nodded kindly, indicating that his prediction was correct. Tonio gave a nod in response and began to remove the shirt from himself. He winced as pain shot from his shoulder when he made a particularly quick movement.

The action had The Golden Angel instantly at his side as she assisted him in pulling off the last of his shirt. Tonio couldn't help but feel uncomfortable as she began to lightly poke and prod at the exposed flesh near where his wrappings were.

They continued on in this manner for a few moments longer before the young girl stood up and gave a smile and a nod of her head. Taking that as an indication of good things, Tonio snatched up his coat and began to button it once more. With each movement of his shoulder, he tried his best to hide the pain, but some shred of it always seemed to find its way to his face.

Suddenly, he felt soft hands cover his own and he felt the now familiar hot blush return to his face. He watched as the girl gave a slight shake of her head as she lightly pushed Tonio's arms down and began to button the rest of his buttons. When she reached the top on, her hands lingered for a moment and Tonio was forced to look at her.

She was staring at her hands, or rather, the red blood that painted her hands. The two of them stood locked in position for a moment before she swiftly lowered her hands and once more looked up at his face and gave an encouraging smile.

"R-Right then, thank ya' very much Ma'am," He said with a hint of his southern drawl slipping into his speech, "I…uhm…I hope that you stay well Miss…uh…"

"It's Rin."

The answer came so quickly that he wasn't sure he heard it at all, but when he looked up at her face, she was smiling calmly as she waited for her response.

"…Miss. Rin then," Tonio responded before he gave a slight nod of his head and quickly walked away. As his heart beat like crazy in his chest, he couldn't help but run her name over in his mind.

Rin.

It was a good name.

He felt the name fit her better than the title The Golden Angel ever would.

He was just on his way to find Leon and inform him that The Golden Angel, or rather Rin, wasn't as mute as everyone thought her to be when he heard the sound of a general calling. Tonio knew what that meant; it was time to line up and prepare for the next battle. Reluctantly, he supposed that his news would have to wait until the battle was done.

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><p>Tonio searched frantically amongst the fallen that littered the battle field. The battle had been so unusually swift, so brutally punishing, that he had next to no time to collect his thoughts before the battle came to an end. As he ran around the battlefield searching, his thoughts were even more scattered then they had been in the battle.<p>

Leon; Leon was missing.

"LEON!" Tonio called desperately across the barren battlefield, "Leon! If you're there, please respond!"

He knew it was a stupid sentiment and he could feel several looks of disapproval on the faces of other soldiers around him, but it didn't bother him in the least. In his time in the army, Leon had become like a brother to him and if he could find him alive, Tonio would have gone through far greater humiliation than the one he was currently subjecting himself to.

"LEON!" He called again. His voice was more strained this time, worn down by the relentless yelling for surrogate brother. Once more, there was no response but the far off call of vultures, annoyed that people were still standing around their food supply.

He inhaled sharply and was about to yell once more when he felt a soft pressure on his hand. He turned instantly to look who it was. He saw Rin standing there with her soft blue eyes staring up at him.

"…Rin?" Tonio ventured dazedly. She seemed to be almost a phantom of the battlefield; an image that shimmered in the morning light and grew hazy the longer you tried to concentrate on it.

Without a word, she took Tonio's hand and dragged him through the battlefield. The two of them stopped a few yards off from where Tonio had been yelling. What Tonio saw there caused his heart to catch in his throat. He fell heavily to his knees as he stared at the scene before him.

No, it wasn't possible. He was the strong one; he was the one who was going to go home to the girl he had waiting for him back home.

No it was a lie; no it wasn't happening.

Without a word, he watched as Rin stepped forward and gently closed the eyes of the corpse. No, not a corpse; Leon.

In that moment, all reservations flew away and Tonio found himself crying uncontrollably. He wanted to grab the rosary around his neck and say a prayer for Leon, but all he could think about was how much Leon scoffed at the thought of prayer. He would have been annoyed if he knew that Tonio was praying for him.

He once more felt her soft touch that was quickly becoming familiar to him. He looked up at her and found her smiling sadly. The look only caused the tears to run with renewed strength down Tonio's face.

"Why aren't you allowed to cry Rin? Why do you have to be so strong? Why do I have to be the one that cries for my lost friend? I'm sure you've lost so much, but you never cry."

Each sentence was punctuated with sobs and gasping breath as Tonio fell deeper into his despair. He was vaguely aware of Rin kneeling down in front of him so that they were on eye level with one another.

"Please cry for me," She said in her soft voice, "I've seen so many horrors, I don't have any tears left to shed. So please, cry for me too."

At those words, Tonio lost all control as he took the young girl into his arms. As he held her, he couldn't help but notice how frail and thin the body was that housed such a strong heart; a heart that was so much stronger than he could ever be.

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><p>Tonio let the small bag of belongings he had fall to the floor with a soft thud. The farm house was empty, not that he had expected anyone to be there. He had been swiftly informed on his return home that his sister had been killed when she was assisting men on the battlefield and the rest of his family had been killed in one of the many raids of the southern towns.<p>

The only thing that remained of his old life was this farm house and even that had fallen in to disrepair due to neglect. So Tonio did the only thing he could think to do.

He began to rebuild.

He worked tirelessly to rebuild not only his home, but also his life. He wanted to return the farm to its former glory in hopes that somehow, that would give him a purpose or direction in his life.

So he worked and worked for three years.

But he never forgot.

Every year on the day that the war officially ended, he would allow himself to simply rest and remember. He never wanted to forget; he couldn't forget.

He always started by recalling the battles, the horrible grizzly battles that he had managed to survive through somehow. His thoughts would quickly shift to all the places he had visited in the long march. Finally, his thoughts would settle on the people he met in his time serving in the war.

He always thought first of Leon, his war brother that had been so cruelly torn from him. He thought of how Leon should have been the one to survive all the battles.

But finally, his thoughts would settle on her; on The Golden Angel.

On Rin.

After the war ended, he never saw her again. They both went their separate ways and he currently had no idea where she was. Sometimes he contemplated running and finding her and taking her in his arms just like the first time he had held her. But, his courage always waned and he would return to his simple life as Tonio, a farmer's son who would do anything to recover his father's farm.

Each year, he would close out the night with a simple drink in honor of all those who had fallen.

On the third year, the ritual proceeded as normal and he finished off his drink. As he looked over the rim of his glass at the door, he nearly dropped the glass in shock.

It wasn't possible; he had to be dreaming.

But she stood there, her huge blue eyes staring at him.

In the three years since he had seen her, she had grown considerably from the fourteen year old she once was. Her hair was longer and now fell just past her shoulders. But her eyes, those blue eyes, remained exactly the same.

"…Rin?" He ventured quietly as he took a cautious step towards her, afraid that the apparition would dissipate if he approached.

But she remained there and she gave a gentle smile; a gentle smile Tonio remembered so well.

Tonio felt pure joy rush through him as he quickly closed the gap between the two of them and encircled her in a tight, warm hug. If he had a choice, he would have never let her go. But suddenly, he felt her small frame begin to shake within his grasp.

It was then he realized that she was crying.

"I'm so glad to see you again," She said between her sobs, "I'm so, so glad. I've missed you so much."

"But…why are you crying? I-I thought you didn't have tears to cry anymore," Tonio said wonderingly as he continued to hold her.

She gently detangled herself from his grasp as she looked up at him with tear-filled blue eyes and her gentle smile that Tonio knew and, he realized for the first time, loved.

"I'm not crying because I'm sad; I'm crying because I'm happy; I'm crying because I found you after so many years."

"You're…crying because…you love me?" Tonio ventured.

He wasn't even given the benefit of a nod of the head as she threw her arms around his neck and gave him a soft kiss on the cheek. The two of them stood wrapped in each other's embrace as the girl who never cried wept with joy and the soldier that had cried far too much held her closely knowing that he would never let her go.


	5. Dell x Yukari

**A/N:** So remember when I said I wanted to update this every day? Yeah...a little thing called "It's the end of the term and you're a college student" snuck up on me. For that reason, the updates for this story will most likely be more sporadic until spring break rolls around. I apologize in advance! Now to speak about this chapter, it's definitely darker and mentions dark things, but nothing explicit so I think it can stay safely out of the "M" rating. If you disagree and have enough persuasive power to convince me otherwise, I'll change the story's rating to "M".

That aside, I must once more thank Monkers for their review. I'm glad that you seem to be enjoying the stories so far!

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><p>Song: At The Round Earth's Imagined Corners - Kansas City Chorale<p>

Couple: DellxYukari

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><p>She was a rabbit. She just had to be a rabbit. She convinced herself that she was a rabbit. She acted like a rabbit; she ate like a rabbit; she slept like a rabbit; she made herself look like a rabbit; when she looked up at the night sky, she saw her reflection on the surface of the pale moon.<p>

She _had_ to be a rabbit.

But the constant problem was the people kept insisting that she was a human. That couldn't be right; she was a rabbit.

Well, perhaps not a rabbit, but she could say for certain that she wasn't human.

Humans weren't treated the way she was.

No, she was a rabbit.

A beast of the world that existed for little more than the pleasure of the humans. She was broken so she could please the humans; if she was human, there was no need to break her.

Yes, she was a rabbit.

A rabbit.

The little rabbit that was silent as the humans held her. Rabbits never made any noise when they were tousled by the humans; sometimes they flinched or tried to run away, but they never called out or yelled.

That was exactly what she was.

She first discovered she was a rabbit when she was a child.

The memory is vague. The edges are fuzzy and most of the faces are unidentifiable; smears exist where noses, eyes and mouths should be. So many unidentifiable faces the rabbit looks at. A few of them she has titles she attributes to them. 'Mother', 'Father', 'Older brother'; their smear faces look the same but she has given them special titles.

At first, she thought herself to be human like all those people that surrounded her with their smear faces. She acted human, she played with other humans, she ate human foods, she was part of a human family. That was a happy time in her life.

It was when she turned seven that she learned she wasn't a human, she was a rabbit.

She always suspected. Her 'Mother', 'Father', and 'Older Brother' sometimes called her Bunny or Rabbit, but until she turned seven, she thought it was just a nickname. But one night, she learned that it was much more than a nickname.

She had been lying in bed, the sweet feeling of sleep almost overtaking her when she heard heavy footsteps outside her door and the sound of a door turning on its hinge. The veil of almost sleep was quickly cast off as she listened to the sound of approaching footsteps.

She then felt someone slide into her bed and wrap their arms around her. It wasn't threatening, it wasn't scary; she felt safe in the arms of 'Older Brother'. But then he came closer and smothered her with a kiss; it was harsh, it burned her skin.

He whispered soft things to her as her body went stiff with fear and he began kissing her all over; nowhere was safe from his kisses. She wanted to hate it, knew that it was bad, but with each kiss, joy trilled through her along with a warm feeling of love.

He was her 'Older Brother', he loved her, this was just another way of showing it between two humans, right?

Right?

It was only when he went beyond kissing that it began to hurt. Then it burned and she felt violated, hurt, by the one that was supposed to love her.

But he always continued to whisper soft things. She's long forgotten most of them, the sickness attached with the memory blocks them out, but she can remember clearly one phrase.

"My little Rabbit, my little Bunny."

Always, always, he whispered it quietly before he started and after he finished.

"My little Rabbit, my little Bunny."

So she was a rabbit. She was her brother's Rabbit.

Not just a nickname; it's what she was.

That's why it was alright. She was a beast. She had thought she was human, that she had the same rights as them. But she was wrong.

She doesn't know how long this ritual carries on, but her brother's visits become more frequent; sometimes he even risks it during the day when their parents are away. Always, always, he whispers softly to calm her. Not once does she cry out.

Why should she? Her 'Older Brother' is there caring for her; sometimes it hurt, but it also hurt when her 'Mother' applied antibiotics to her cuts, but it made her better in the end.

Wasn't this the same thing?

So the pattern continued on for years and years and it's wasn't until her brother leaves that it stops. She's sixteen at the time.

For years her human mind has known that what the two of them do is wrong, she knows that they should stop. But the exchanges keep occurring and she never once cries out.

A human would have cried out.

But she is her 'Older Brother's' Rabbit.

A rabbit who was now without an owner.

She knew she should have been happy; sometimes in fact the human girl was. But their exchanges had become a ritual so long for the rabbit that in a way she couldn't help but hope that her 'Older Brother' would come back soon.

Soon, she learns of a place where all the rabbits of the world go. She knows that she has to go there. She runs away from home.

She's only seventeen when she stands in front of the building with a gaudy front and bright neon lights that hurt her little rabbit eyes. But inside, there are so many other rabbits, all wearing ridiculous costumes and receiving the love they so craved.

The rabbit found a home once more.

These men don't whisper sweet things to her like her brother, but they kiss her just as much if not more. The rabbit's little heart trills with joy within her; she is loved once more. The human girl's tears and protests are ignored.

She is a rabbit.

Her life goes on like this for years. Humans come and go as all their faces fade into smears; the years pass and the smears increase. Most of the other rabbits leave, but she stays; she always, always, stays.

And one day, they're all gone and the rabbit is left alone.

When she's left alone, all she can do is think; think and wait.

She wants someone to come so that her rabbit heart isn't lonely.

Then suddenly, there is a boy there.

She's never seen him before but she just knows that he'll love her just like all the rest. He has too; her small rabbit heart calls out for it.

Her eyes follow him as he sits down in one of the scattered chairs about the room and lights a cigarette. He doesn't even turn to look at her as he takes a long drag. The rabbit approaches then and stares at him.

He doesn't lift his red eyes from the spot on the floor he's concentrating on.

So she sits in his lap and begins to nuzzle her face against him. He smells like smoke and it makes her gag on the inside, but she hides it away quickly; the rabbit would do anything to be loved again.

Her nuzzling begins to move down his chest and suddenly he pushes her off and the rabbit falls to the floor. She looks up at the boy with red eyes. She's terrified; no one has ever rejected her like this.

She wants to try again. This time she rests her head on his leg and begins to gently massage his hip. He stands from the chair instantly and glares down at her with his harsh, burning red eyes. His cigarette is still gripped between his teeth as he speaks to the rabbit.

"I don't know what the hell kind of person you think I am, but just 'cause you cozy up to me and rub yourself all over me doesn't mean it's leading to anything. I just came here to have a smoke 'cause the boss won't let me smoke in the building…damn hag."

The rabbit just stares at him. She wants to respond, but rabbits don't speak the same language as humans. Instead, all she can do is stare at the strange boy with his angry red eyes and silver hair. He takes another drag of his cigarette before he turns and glares at her.

"Take off that damn hood; you look ridiculous."

She instinctively draws the hood closer to herself. She can't give it up; the ears on the hood mark her for what she is.

She's a rabbit.

She's the Rabbit of another smear-faced person in the crowd.

Instead, she returns to her corner and watches the strange boy as he finishes his cigarette and leaves without another word. The rabbit wants so desperately to follow him, but somehow the human girl had made herself known and she remains in her corner.

The next day, the boy comes back. Once more, he's smoking.

Always, always, he keeps coming back. Always, always he's smoking a cigarette. Always, always the rabbit tries desperately for him to love her and always, always he ignores her. Always, always he leaves after a few minutes there.

One time he comes late, the sun in almost setting by the time he approaches. When he comes, the rabbit doesn't approach. She just watches him.

As he's about to finish his cigarette, he turns and looks at her. His eyes are still a deep, angry red that frighten both the rabbit and the girl, but he doesn't look as angry as he was the other days when the rabbit desperately worked for his love. He doesn't say anything; he just examines her for a moment before he turns away, grinds his cigarette butt into the ground and heads out of the building.

This time both the girl and the rabbit follow after him.

The rabbit wants love she has always known.

The girl wants the love she always heard the other rabbits talk about; true love they called it.

The boy doesn't stop her and in the middle of the dark night, the two of them reach his apartment. As he enters the apartment, he leaves the door open for the girl to follow him, which she does after a moment's hesitation.

The apartment is small, but the rabbit can't help but feel that it's huge. She had been living in that one corner of the world for so long that she had even forgotten that other places exist.

Without a word, the boy with red eyes closes the door behind the rabbit. The rabbit feels her heart rate increase as she once more subdues the foolish idea of herself as a human girl. She knows that someone will finally love her again.

She watches as the boy grabs a blanket and pillow and throws it on to a slim couch. He gestures in its direction.

"You can sleep there."

His message finished, he headed into another room and left the rabbit wondering what to do next. He had told her to sleep on the couch, but he wasn't going to be there with her; that wasn't the love she had always known.

Ignoring his instructions, she walked to the room she had seen him enter to find him lying in bed with the covers pulled up around him. His eyes are closed, as if in sleep. The rabbit remembers the first day she learned she was a rabbit. So clearly the memory come back; where there we only smudges and fuzziness before, suddenly there is clarity.

She sneaks into the bed next to him and pulls him into her arms before she gives him a strong kiss on the lips.

With a great force, she is pushed from the bed and falls to the ground with a heavy and loud thud. She looks up terrified at the young man. His red eyes swim with unnamable emotions as he looks down at her.

"If you want to stay, never do that again."

She watches as he stands from the bed and heads over to the couch. He quickly pulled the covers around him and turns his back on the room he has just left.

The rabbit's eyes wander to the bed that the boy had just left. She can't remember the last time she slept in a bed by herself. The rabbit is sad, but the voice of the human girl returns once more and is overjoyed at the prospect.

The girl crawls into the bed and pulls the covers around herself. It smells like smoke and cheap cologne; it smells like the boy who is currently sleeping on the couch. The girl cuddles down into the smell as sleep begins to overtake her form.

It's the first time since she was a child that both the girl and the rabbit have slept in the same house as a boy without them being in the same bad.

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><p>When he first woke up, he had no idea where he was. The blanket that covered him was familiar enough, but it definitely wasn't the blanket from his bed. As he stared at the blanket with blood-shot tired eyes, he recalled that he had slept on the couch after the weird rabbit girl had kissed him last night.<p>

With a sigh, he rolled on his side and came face to face with the girl in question.

This time she didn't try to kiss him or any of the other stuff she had tried the other days he visited the building she resided in. She simply stared at him as the two of them stood locked in silence. The boy with the red eyes was the first to break the silence as he hauled himself off the couch.

"Don't stare at me like that. It's fucking creepy."

The girl gave no response, nor did she stop staring at him as he gave a sigh of frustration. He just knew that his decision to let this weird rabbit girl into his house was going to be a pain in his ass.

"I'm going to eat some breakfast. All I know how to make is coffee and cereal, so that's what you're getting."

Without waiting for any form of response from the girl, he headed over to the small kitchenette and set the water boiling for the coffee and he pulled out two mugs, two bowls and the box of cereal that seemed to have the most cereal left inside.

Once the coffee finished boiling and he had poured it into both mugs, he gathered the bowls and mug in his arms and headed back into the other room. The girl stood exactly where he had left her and as soon as he entered the room, her eyes fixed on him. He couldn't help but think that somehow her eyes had followed him through the wall the whole time he was in the kitchen.

He set the bowls and mugs down at the small table and took his seat. He didn't wait for the girl to join him before he started sipping on his coffee. He was about half-way through the mug before the girl sat across from him and began to poke at the now soggy cereal with her spoon. She looked at it almost as if she had never seen it before.

He was about two-thirds done with his cup before she clumsily took the spoon in her hand and took a tiny bite of cereal. Her eyes lit slightly as she dipped the spoon back into the bowl and took another bite.

As he finished his coffee and stood to leave, she had just finished the cereal.

"I'm going to work. Food's in the fridge. Leave if you want to."

He turned his back to her and grabbed his coat as he headed out the door. One foot was out the door before he turned to look back at the young girl. She was still sitting at the table, her eyes fixed on him once more.

"You look better without the hood on; a lot less stupid," He commented casually.

The girl's hands instantly flew to the hood that now rested on her back. He could tell it took her all the willpower in the world not to pull it up over her head once more. Instead, she slowly and methodically moved her hands so they were resting on the table once more.

A ghost of a smile passed her face as she gave the slightest nod of her head and continued to stare at him.

With a sigh of annoyance at the fact that she wouldn't stop staring at him, he closed the door behind him and headed off to work. As he lit a cigarette, he knew that only time would tell if the girl would still be there when he got back from work and weather her hood would be up or down.


	6. Kiyoteru x Lily

**A/N: **Oh look, it's another weird chapter! I guess bizarre chapter are just more fun to write. That observation aside, I'm gonna note somethings here. First, people have been asking me if I'm going to include specific characters. Basically, if at the time of me writing this, they're an official Vocaloid (and a few of the more well known unofficial ones) they will be included to some extent in this collection. Just thought I would let you guys know.

Also, Otaku4life told me that I need to continue some of these stories...I may some day if there's enough interest from readers and/or myself, but really they're just intended to be one-shots. Although, if anyone reads them and feels compelled to do a continuation I'm not stopping you. In fact, I would love to see how people would continue these stories because honestly, I have no idea how I would.

If you have any more questions or comments, don't hesitate to contact me. PM is most likely better if you want a direct/lengthy response.

Enough babbling from me! I would like to thank TheNextAlice (x2!), FireRuby14, and Otaku4life for their reviews! You guys had very nice things to say about my silly, rambling stories!

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><p>Song: Bottle Full of Memories - Maike Boerdam<p>

Couple: KiyoteruxLily

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><p>The entire house seemed to reverberate as the girl slammed the door with all the energy she could muster. As she stomped down the hallway that connected all the apartments in the complex, she made sure that her footsteps were loud enough so the man's whose apartment she had just left could hear her.<p>

When she reached the elevator, she angrily pushed the down button and waited impatiently for the elevator to arrive. She tapped her foot as the numbered lights above the elevator gradually grew closer to the floor she was on.

She gave a huff of anger as she turned away from the elevator; it was taking too damn long.

As she made her way down the four flights of stairs that lead to her apartment, the angry click of her heels on the metal stairs beneath her began to sound like a beating war-drum. It was orderly and constant, in vast contrast to the flurry that her thoughts flew about in.

By the time she arrived at her apartment, her thoughts had managed to work themselves into one burning, bright emotion that raged all through her system: anger. She opened the door of her apartment with a strong yank and instantly made her way to her bedroom.

The room was small and dimly lit; everything smelled like alcohol and an overwhelming uncleanness. Normally the smell didn't bother the girl, it was just a fact of the life she had built for herself, but tonight it was different.

The smell bothered her because it was part of the reason she was fighting with Kiyoteru and the more she inhaled it, she more her mind kept recalling the shouting match. Previously, he had asked her, almost begged her, to give up her partying ways, her tendency to stay out till all hours of the night and return home the next morning with only a passing idea how she had ended up there. She had always made some half-assed promise, kept with it for a few days and then returned to her usual routine until he asked her to stop once more.

It was just another one of the cycles of life.

But this time it had been different; he wasn't asking, he was demanding. He told her that he didn't want to continue the cycle anymore. If she didn't change her ways, they were through.

That was when she lost it.

He was supposed to love her, right? He was supposed to accept her for who she was, right? Why did he think it was so fucking important that she give up her choice to party in favor of living the meek, quiet life he chose to live? What gave him the right!

Then he looked at her with eyes filled with such disappointment that it only made the anger within her build. Had she really done anything horrible enough to warrant such disappointment? It wasn't like she had killed anyone for God's sake!

"I can't watch the one I love the most in the world destroy herself. I'm sorry Lily."

Lily; not Lil, the nickname he always used for her.

He was saying goodbye.

She wouldn't give him the satisfaction of being the first one to say goodbye. She would say it loudly, slam the door in his face and retreat to her apartment, refusing to open the door for him when he inevitably regretted his decision and came to find her.

With a growl of frustration, she yanked open the bottom drawer of the small nightstand next to her bed. It was a special drawer; she never let anyone see what was inside. It was too embarrassing; it didn't fit with the persona she had spent so many years building up.

Her hands darted into the drawer and she pulled out a bottle. She didn't look at the contents as she haphazardly threw it on to her bed and flung her hand back into the drawer; she produced another bottle.

This pattern continued till the drawer was empty and she had thirty bottles of all shapes and sizes piled on to her bed.

With her furry still burning hot within her, she slammed the drawer shut and made her way over to her bed. She began to search ferociously through the bottles until she found the one she was looking for.

The bottle was small, cylindrical and filled with white sand from a beach in a far-off memory.

She had gathered the sand when she and Kiyoteru went on vacation a few months ago. She always hated winter and after listening to her complain about it for three years, Kiyoteru knew as well.

That's why it was so sweet, so kind, of him to use his two weeks of winter vacation to sweep her off to a tropical paradise where the word "cold" only described the drink in your hand. She had loved every second of it and when Kiyoteru wasn't looking, she had bottled some of the sand from the beach their hotel was located on.

The bottle contained a perfect little world; a perfect little memory.

She stared at the sand as she allowed the bottle to roll in her palm. It moved silently within the bottle, imitating the ocean waves it had once been situated next to.

A perfect little memory; a fragile little memory.

Raising her hand high above her head, she brought the bottle crashing to the ground and was rewarded for her efforts with the sound of glass shattering. She looked at the spot where she had thrown the bottle to see the sea of sand splayed across the rug. It had been so simple. It had been so easy.

A fragile little memory; a meaningless mess on the floor.

She felt empowered. She didn't need him. She didn't need him and his memories. Look how easy it was to shatter it on the floor into a pile of meaninglessness!

With renewed anger and vigor, she picked up another bottle and brought it crashing to the floor. The satisfying sound of glass shattering greeted her once more. It was so easy! It was so easy!

With each sound of glass shattering, she was killing off the fond memories with him. Their first date, the day he asked her out, their first kiss, the first movie they went to, the first present he bought for her; all of it was thrown onto the floor and added to the pile of meaninglessness.

One by one, she was systematically getting rid of all the happy times the two of them had spent together. She could just keep going, she could just keep going and they would be strangers.

This wasn't why she kept the bottles, she had kept the bottles so that she could always remember all the reasons she loved him, all the small things he did for her or they did together that meant so much to her. The bottles were there to exist as a reminder. She could open them any time she wanted and smile as she remembered how much she loved him.

But they were so fragile; she never realized how easy it would be to forget everything. She realized she was laughing as she threw down the bottles. It was so quick and painless! No wallowing in despair until she could wipe him from her mind. No, she could destroy everything in that one singular, glorious, moment.

It was love at first sight but in reverse.

It was so easy!

Her hand stopped as she raised it to throw; her laughter died in her chest. She wanted to throw the bottle, she wanted to forget.

It was the last one.

She could throw it down and she would be free.

Despite her anger's demands to be appeased, her body moved of its own volition as it lowered the bottle so it rested in both her palms. It was long and square shaped with several nicks and chips where it had been poorly treated by a previous owner.

It was her favorite bottle.

It contained her favorite memory.

With shaking hands, she pulled the cork from the bottle and allowed the contents to spill out. Silently, the glasses in the bottle slipped into her palms and sat there innocently staring up at her. She closed her eyes and felt the memory wash over her as if it were happening for the first time.

The ultimate reminder of him.

The first time he had said he loved her.

He hadn't even voiced the words; he had said everything with his actions.

The two of them had been dating for about a month and she was starting to get impatient. True, he was a sweet guy and she enjoyed spending time with him, but he was really bad in a relationship. It had taken him almost a week before he would let her hug him and then another two weeks before he would hold hands with her in public. The slow pace of their relationship was beginning to grate her short patience.

Which was why she was so surprised when he invited her to come visit his apartment one day.

She agreed instantly – anything to move the relationship a long – and found herself outside his apartment two days later. It was stupid really; the two of them lived in the same apartment complex, but had never visited the other's room.

When he opened the door, he had smiled warmly and ushered her into the room. The first thing she noticed when she walked in was how much cleaner his apartment was than her. She decided instantly before she invited Kiyoteru over to her place she would have to clean up.

The rest of the day passed in a blur of laughter, hugs, a little arguing (all in good fun though) and good food. When she stood outside his apartment once more, she could honestly say that she felt closer to him than ever before. With a quick kiss on the cheek, she prepared to make her way back up to her apartment, but she was stopped by a soft pressure on her wrist.

When she turned around, he had taken the glasses from his face and was holding them in his palm, motioning for her to take it. She was honestly surprised; she knew the glasses were an important memento, a memory of a loved one that Kiyoteru held dear, so what was he doing passing them off to her? He squinted at her and smiled when he saw the confusion on her face.

"My father once told me that when you feel that you can give someone something you most cherish, it means that that person means more to you than life itself. I want you to have these Lil."

She had looked confusedly back and forth from him to the glasses, before with the slightest nod of her she took the glasses from his palm. Of course, this left her wondering how exactly he would be able to see. Of course she asked him and he answered with a good-natured laugh.

"Don't worry, I have an extra pair. Wouldn't want to strain my eyes you know."

They both laughed then and said their good-byes and Lily headed back up to her apartment. The entire time she walked, she cradled the glasses in her hands, irrationally afraid that the glasses would shatter at the lightest touch.

When she reached her apartment, the first thing she did was rush to her collection of bottles. She had been saving the memories since the two of them first started dating; it was a secret that she would never share with anyone.

She began to search though the empty bottles that she had set aside until she settled on her favorite. It was an old bottle that her grandmother had given her; she claimed she found it washed up on the beach one day, but Lily wasn't quite sure how true that story was.

As she slid the glasses into the bottle and lightly pushed the cork in, she realized something for the first time.

In his usual roundabout fashion, Kiyoteru had just told her that he loved her.

She had marched back down to his apartment, angrily knocked on his door and kissed him full on the mouth the moment to door swung open.

But that was a long time ago, and as she opened her eyes back to reality once more, she found the world had gone blurry. It took her two seconds more to realize she was crying. She began to wipe angrily at her eyes; she wasn't supposed to cry! She was angry! She was angry! She was-

She couldn't stop it. The tears kept flowing down her face as she curled into a ball and hugged the glasses to her chest. Why did she have to be such a screw up? Why couldn't he have fallen in love with someone perfect like him? Why did he have to leave her?

Why didn't he follow her? Why wasn't he looking for her now? Why wasn't he holding her and comforting her?

"I'm sorry…I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

The apologies were quiet at first, but they quickly grew in intensity until she was practically screaming with each sob that tore through her system.

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry! I'm sorry!"

She didn't know what she was apologizing for, everything she guessed. As she continued to apologize, she worked her way out of her huddled ball over to where she had thrown the bottles.

The scattered glass burrowed into her skin, but she didn't care. All she could do was look down at the pile of what had once-been memories that was now lying useless on the floor. She wanted it back, she wanted it all back!

SNAP

The sound tore through her sobbing and time seemed to stop as she looked down at her hand.

She had been holding the glasses so tightly in her hands that she had broken them. They lay in two useless halves in her palm. Almost without thinking, she let the two pieces fall onto the pile on the floor.

Through blurry, tear stricken eyes, she looked at the now meaningless pile on the floor as the scattered glass bottle pieces continued to dig into her skin. The pile meant nothing to her anymore; just a pile that she would ignore cleaning up for weeks on end.

It had been like love at first sight it reverse.

It had been so easy.

A meaningless mess on the floor; a perfect little world.


	7. Bruno x Luka

**A/N:** For this one, I ended up trying a different perspective just for fun and to challenge myself. I'm not sure if I like it. I've never been very good at 1st person perspective, and even in this story I feel I presented the perspective atypically, but I still hope that you can enjoy despite all this!

Many thanks to TheNextAlice, I My Me Mine, and irish d' salmon luver (x2!) for your reviews! Your kind words are more encouragement than you will ever know!

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><p>Song: Deception - Takashi Okamoto<p>

Couple: BrunoxLuka

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><p>The smell of coffee is in every part of my life. If I were poetic, I would even say that it's the life-blood that flows through my veins. Unfortunately, my poetic nature is thoroughly buried under a pile of fresh-out-of-college debt, a useless music degree, and being stuck as a barista in this run down coffee joint for the last three years of my life. Make sure you don't tell my boss I said that, alright? My guess is the only reason you're here is because you're a college student yourself; I can tell by the bag on your back and the way you hold yourself; simple logic really.<p>

So, what would you like to drink? …That's pretty plain; sure you don't want something fancier? Alright, coming right up.

Hm…a story? I already told you, if you're looking for poetry or pretty words I don't have any. Sorry.

_My_ story? Now, that's something completely different. If you've got a couple hours to spare, I suppose I could tell you my life from the begging right up to this point. …No, I didn't expect you to have the time for that.

Alright then, how about a quick little story - a vignette if you will - to give you a snapshot of my life while the coffee brews? Ah, now your eyes light up; this is what you've been waiting to hear. Is your major journalism? If not maybe you should consider changing your major; you look like you've taken a real shine to finding stories.

So now on to the main event. Let's see…what would be a good story. Oh, I know; the drink you ordered reminded me of a girl that used to come into the shop every day. I'll tell you about her.

I'm not sure how long she's been doing it; perhaps she started before I started working this job, or perhaps by some bizarre twist of fate we both started our new lives on the same day. Whatever the case, on my first day working here, she walked in through the door as soon as the store opened. That little bell above the door happily announced her arrival.

I could tell instantly that she was a college student like myself; I estimated that she was a freshman because she looked to be a few years younger than me. Anyways, the moment she walked into the door, I could tell she felt out of place. She kind of shuffled her feet and found an advertisement on the wall to be overly interesting. Add in the fact that she had bright blue eyes, was so pale she looked like she had never seen the light of day, and had a long mane of bright, blonde hair and it was obvious to anyone looking that she just didn't belong. Actually…your eyes kind of remind me of hers…

But eventually, she gathered enough courage and she made her way to the counter. She ordered her drink, a black coffee with two sugars, just like what you ordered. She tripped over her words and had to start her order over four or five times, I forget the exact number. Obviously, Spanish wasn't her native language; at the time I assumed it was English.

As I prepared her drink, I could tell my hands were shaking; it was my first day on the job after all. I screwed up badly enough that I had to restart the drink twice. Each time I turned to her and gave hurried excuses and apologies, but I'm pretty sure she didn't understand what I was saying. I could have said anything and she would have responded with her half-smile, eyebrows raised slightly in confusion, and a courteous nod of her head.

By the time I managed to complete her drink, there were two more customers to attend to. With a quick smile and a warm farewell I handed her the coffee; she responded once more with her half-smile and nod of her head. It left me wondering if she could speak any Spanish at all.

I don't remember much about the rest of the day except for the fact that there were so many costumers it made my head hurt; this coffee shop was a lot more popular back in the day. But even though so many customers came and went, the strange non-Spanish speaking girl didn't come back. Looking back, I guess I shouldn't have been that surprised. I mean, it's pretty bizarre to get coffee in the middle of the day, right?

Oh right…you're getting coffee in the middle of the day…well, I hope you don't take offense to that comment.

But back to the story. By the time I finished the day, I was tired and I was sure I wouldn't make it through another moment of working at the place; it was simply far too hectic and crazy for me to think rationally.

Despite all this, the next day I showed up once more for work; to my surprise she showed up as well. As soon as I opened the door, she was there. Once more, she didn't approach the counter right away. She hung back, almost as if she was building up courage to come and order a coffee. Thinking back, perhaps that's exactly what she was doing.

It took her less time to make her way to the counter and this time when she ordered her coffee, she only had to restart twice. I could tell she was proud of the accomplishment by the huge smile that crossed her face when I asked for the money for the coffee. I guess I improved too because I only had to remake her coffee once that day.

Once I had finished making her coffee, I couldn't help but follow her with my eyes. The day before, I had been so occupied with other matters that I hadn't had time to see where she went after she ordered the coffee. But that day, I watched as she took a seat next to one of the greasy windows.

As I had a chance to examine her, I noticed just how beautiful she was. She definitely wasn't pretty in the typical sense; she was more "movie star" kind of stunning, if you know what I'm talking about. With her long hair and big blue eyes, I could tell that she was one of those girls that you looked at but you never touched.

The only thing that was slightly off was her hair color. I don't know if it was natural or dyed, but the blonde hair just seemed to conflict with her. I'm no expert on beauty, trust me I'm the first to admit that, but the blonde was just…off.

I guess I was staring a while because eventually she raised her eyes and our gazes met. I remember thinking in that moment that I shouldn't be looking; she was a customer. But, as improbable as it may sound, I really couldn't tear my eyes away.

I'm guessing you want to hear something profound happened, right? You want to hear that either I went over there and swept her off her feet or she returned back to the counter and invited me to sit with her.

Unfortunately, this was reality and reality is far less drenched in clichés than we would like to believe.

What happened next was she gave a slight smile, took a sip of her coffee and turned back to looking out the window. For my part, I continued to look at her for a few seconds longer before I heard the sound of the bell above the door announcing another customer.

After that day, we fell into a pattern of sorts; she would come every morning, right at opening time, order her cup of coffee with two sugars, and then take her seat by the window. I actually kind of made a game out of her coming. I began to measure the time it would take for her to come up to the counter and order a coffee. The first time I started counting, I believe it took her a good three minutes.

On the first day she said something besides her order to me, it had taken her two minutes and twenty-five seconds to come up to the counter. I remember that by this point her Spanish was coming along quite nicely and she could say her order without any awkward pauses or stumbles; it may sound silly but I was actually quite proud of her.

But anyways, after she ordered her coffee and I began to make it, I was surprised to hear her speak again. Now, I wasn't annoyed or anything like that, just surprised. She asked me something simple, harmless; I think it was about the weather but I don't really remember at this point. What I do remember is having to work through her heavy accent to understand what she was saying.

By the time I figured what she had said, I had finished making her coffee. When I turned to look at her, she was looking at me nervously, almost like she was afraid that I hadn't understood her or that she had said the question improperly; honestly, it was kind of cute.

As I handed her the coffee, I answered her question and wished her a good day. Let me tell you, you've never seen anyone so relieved to have their question answered as that girl was. The grin on her face was the widest I have ever seen. As she made her way to her usual spot, she had a spring in her step and a wide grin plastered on her face.

I think it was at that point that I realized that maybe she wasn't so much a "movie star" kind of beauty. I guess I started thinking that maybe I would try talking to her.

Ah, now your eyes light up; you've been waiting for a love story this whole time, haven't you? Sorry it took me so long to get there, but it might be a good idea for me to apologize in advance. I doubt the story will live up to your high expectations of excitement and glamour.

Where was I? …Oh right, the first time I thought she might be worth pursuing. Of course I didn't act on it right away. I could tell that she wasn't fluent in Spanish and, at the time, I had no idea what her native language was. Not that knowing what it was would have helped in making conversation with her; Spanish is all I can speak after all.

But as the days went by and the time she spent lollygagging before she came to the counter decreased, conversation between the two of us gradually began to increase. At first it was casual, extremely formal speech. You know, the kind of thing you would hear between any barista and their customers. But the more she came, the less formal it became and at some point I suppose we became friends.

…What? You want to hear what I remember about her? That's an odd request…well, let me see…

I guess the first thing to tell you would be her name; it was Luka Megurine. I'm still not sure if I'm saying that last name right, it's quite the mouthful. Anyway, she was nineteen at the time I met her, she was majoring in foreign relations, her native language was Japanese, but she spoke fluent English so my first guess wasn't too far off, she was a freshman at one of the nearby colleges, she would be studying abroad for the next year…what else; oh, I remember her favorite color was pink, very similar to the color of your hair actually, and her favorite food was tuna.

Trust me, it took a long time to get all of that information from her. I guess you could say she was a cautious person although that might have just been due to the fact that she wasn't fluent in Spanish and you could tell that she desperately didn't want to mess up when she spoke.

But getting back to the story; by the time it only took her thirty seconds to come up to the counter, I finally got around to asking her for her cellphone number. I don't know why I did it; my hands were full being a full-time student and working at this coffee shop after all. Maybe I did it just to have some sort of "proof" that we were friends. Yeah yeah, laugh all you want. If someone told that to me I'm sure I would laugh to.

But let me tell you, you can't even begin to imagine how nervous I was the day I asked for her number and how relieved I was when she agreed with a nod of her head and began to slowly relay the number to me. Every time I punched a number into the phone, it felt like a small victory.

You know though, I never contacted her or called her; there was no need to because I saw her every day. But even now, it's been three years since I've seen her and I still haven't called her…maybe I should someday.

Why don't I? I guess…I don't want to destroy the image I have of her? No, not that exactly…. It's more like I want to hold on to the memory of her. I have this really strange fear that if I contact her, she'll be a completely different person. She'll no longer be the nervous college girl that would order a coffee every morning.

…I'm surprised you didn't laugh at that one…do you share a similar experience? No, don't worry, you don't have to say anything. I can tell by the look in your eyes that you know exactly what I'm going through.

I guess the next important point of my story would be to tell you when I fell in love with her. And that sparkle is back; your emotions are like an open book. But yes, here comes the love story you've been waiting for.

I don't honestly think there is a point that I could say I knew I was in love with her; I'm pretty sure it was after she gave me her cellphone number. At the very least, that was when I first noticed it.

When I realized it, it was a day like any other – it only took her seventeen seconds to come to the counter by the way – and I was pretty sure that the most spectacular thing that was going to happen was I was going to fail the test I had later that day. But when we struck up our usual conversation, she spoke for the first time how she would have to be returning to Japan soon. I remember her saying that she would miss our talks in the morning.

The moment she said that, I realized that it wasn't so much the talks that I would miss, it was her; I would miss everything about her. And that was the moment I realized I was in love with her. The realization must have taken me by surprise, because for about ten seconds, I couldn't do anything but stare at her. I'm pretty sure she misinterpreted it as me being surprised how soon she was leaving because she reassured me that she still had quite a bit of time left.

So that was the moment I realized I loved her. Maybe I had loved her since we first met. Love at first sight; it would definitely make the story more fantastical, wouldn't it? Well, I wish I could say the next few months with her were fairy-tail like, but I really can't.

Time passed quickly and our conversations got longer as we became closer. We never once talked about dating one another. Oh, I thought about it a lot, but I wasn't sure if she did and with her leaving so soon, I didn't want to ruin the friendship we had.

It was one mediocre day after another until it was the day before she had to leave. She walked up to the counter – she had been walking straight up without waiting for about two months by this point – and we struck up conversation like usual until she mentioned she would be heading home soon.

I wanted desperately to tell her that I loved her, but the words stuck in my throat and I just mutely nodded. As we talked that day, there were so many opportunities for me to tell her my feelings; I didn't take any of them. Sometimes I wonder why. Sometimes I wonder what would have changed if I had told her.

She stayed longer than usual that day and as she got up to leave, I told her one of the first things I thought when I saw her – blonde didn't look good on her. I remember her looking surprised before her face melted into a smile when she asked what color would look better.

On a whim, I told her she should do some really bizarre, unnatural color. She had smiled and agreed with me; she promised me that the next time I met her I wouldn't be able to recognize her.

And with those as our parting words, she headed out the door.

So there you have it, a little story – or perhaps large story would be better – of my life. Did you enjoy it? I bet you just came in here to get your coffee, no have your ear talked off by a man who's still in love with a girl after not speaking with her for three years.

Hm…what was that? Oh, yes, I still love her. I love her very much. Maybe that's part of the reason I still work at the place; I figure it's the only place she would know where to find me.

Hey…what's wrong? Why are you crying? I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset you with my story. If it's easier, you should just forget everything. Here, take your coffee and you can be on your way out the door.

…What do you mean you can't just leave? You have no obligations to me? You don't…

…She dyed her hair pink? She's been meaning to contact me since she returned home but she was afraid I wouldn't respond? She's in love with me?

How…how can you know that?

…Unless…

…Luka?


	8. Leon x IA

**A/N:** Terribly sorry for the long wait, but college steals my life away (that and Tales of Graces, but I'm not supposed to admit that one). But yes, for this one, I had an entirely different concept at first until I realized that there was no way I could work it into just a one-shot. So, I wrote up this instead. Turns out it's another bizarre chapter! Also, I was really happy when I got the LeonxIa couple just because I thought it would be fun to pair the newest Vocaloid with the oldest Vocaloid.

I have to thank TheNextAlice, FireRuby14, Otaku4life, princedwardriviera, and Ten-Faced for their wonderful reviews and warm response. Your words are very encouraging and make me smile.

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><p>Song: Bloody Tears - Castelvania OST<p>

Couple: LeonxIa

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><p>She was angry. She was sad. She was hurt.<p>

Escape. Escape. Escape.

She didn't want to think about what had happened. She didn't want to think about it.

She didn't want to think about him.

The music building was safe; she could find an empty practice room. She walked faster and faster towards the building that looked to her like her last salvation. Tears ran down her face freely, but she did nothing to stem them.

The music building; she had to get there.

Escape. Escape. Escape.

With an almost thunderous crash, she burst through the music building door with her head down and her footsteps on the verge of breaking into a run at any moment. She could feel the stares of several students on her, but she didn't care. She had to get to a practice room.

Escape. Escape. Escape.

As she yanked open the door to the practice room and let it slam shut behind her, she felt the strength rush out of her legs as she collapsed to the floor. She was vaguely aware of the feeling of her knees banging against the linoleum floor and the pain that went lancing through her system. She didn't care. She was safe. She had made it to the music building.

Escape. Escape. Escape.

With monumental effort, she pulled herself into a standing position and took a few shaky steps towards the object of her desire. In the dim, florescent light of the practice room, it glowed like a beacon of comfort and hope. Through the tears, she felt a twisted smile work its way on to her face. Her entire body trembling with un-voiced emotions, she pulled a chair next to the gilded object and set her hands in position.

She tentatively plucked one of the strings and heard a light, sweet note ring out into the room. The note was an anchor for her; even if everything else in her life changed, that one note would remain the same. Perfect and eternal.

Why couldn't life be like that?

Her hands moved once more and another singular note rang out. This one was lower and richer; it gave support to the phantom of the other note that still lingered in the room. The two of them joined together in a duet. Perfect and eternal.

Why couldn't their relationship have been like that?

She closed her eyes as if the thought caused her pain. She had promised herself. She wasn't going to think about it! She wasn't going to think about him! She set her hands to strum the strings once more and as her fingers found and plucked the strings, the notes began to form into a song.

The notes ran and crashed together creating a sound that was somehow dissonant and yet pleasing to the ears. Her hands flew into a furry as everything but the mangled notes faded into oblivion. All she could feel, all that was real, was the mild sting caused by her furious plucking of the strings. Then even that was pushed away as she allowed the dream to swallow her.

Escape. Escape. Escape.

She hated him! He was a terrible person! How could he! How could he!

She had loved him so much! Those three years that they spent together had been the happiest of her life. She had never smiled so much before. He accepted and loved her. It was a perfect little dream.

Then why? Why!

Their dream had been gilded and wonderful. She made sure of that. All the places where the cracks were starting to show, all the places where their relationship was starting to strain, she made sure to hide it away. She was sure he wouldn't notice. They could keep living in their gilded fantasy. He would be her prince charming forever.

But then he changed everything! That's right, it was all _his_ fault! She had loved him!

No…that wasn't true.

She still loved him.

She still loved him so much. So much. Why couldn't he see that? Why!

When he told her, she had wanted to laugh. It wasn't a big deal! It was just another crack in their relationship that she could steer his eyes away from. They could still be happy together. The jar may be cracked slightly, but it still holds water.

But he told her otherwise. He had to take responsibility; it was his child. Responsibility? What about her! They had been together three years and suddenly he's going to run out on her? He's just going to leave?

She doesn't say it out loud. She can't. She loves him too much.

She can feel the jar slipping from her grasp. Soon it will be in a thousand pieces on the floor with its contents spilled messily everywhere.

He was the one that said goodbye. Not her. She was still living in her fantasy; it was a land where everything was wonderful and beautiful. Where, like those two notes, everything could be suspended in a perfect cord of harmony.

Suddenly, she felt her hands fumble with the notes of the song as the thin wires bit deeper into her fingers causing her to reflexively wince in pain. It was slowly bringing her back to reality as the sensations of every day life came rushing back. No! No! She wasn't going to think about it!

Escape. Escape. Escape.

The song reached a furious crescendo as her fingers continued to almost pluck the strings out of their facets. She pushed away the pain and attempted to will her mind back into the gilded land of dreams. But no matter how hard she tries, the pain in her fingers prevents the perfect cords from forming and her mind from fleeing.

With a final, vicious pluck of the strings, the song comes to an end and all the pain the girl has been repressing comes back in a rush. Tears continue to run freely down her cheeks, but she's no longer sure if it's because of the pain in her fingers or the pain in her chest.

She flexes her fingers, almost on reflex, and winces instantly at the pain. She looks at her fingertips to find them covered with deep cuts that caused rivulets of blood to run down her thin, bone-like fingers. She gives a sigh that's somehow situated between wistful and self-chastisement. She knows that her fingers will burn for the next few days. That means she won't be able to play until they recover.

No, that can't be right. She can't go without playing, especially not now.

Escape. Escape. Escape.

She lifts her fingers to the strings once more and plucks at them tentatively. Her face contorts in pain as the string rings out vibrantly. Before, she had been able to block out the pain. But now, reality is too strong, too close, for her to shut it out.

With an unintentional sigh, she stands from her chair and hastily wipes at the tears on her cheeks. She subconsciously hides her fingertips in her sleeves and leaves the practice room without a backwards glance. As she walks back to her dorm, she tries once more to recall the song she played in a vain attempt to dream once more.

All she hears are the sounds of reality closing in around her.

* * *

><p>She didn't want to come. She always hated the smell and feeling of doctor offices. But after her roommate saw the deep cuts on her fingers, she practically dragged her to the campus doctor's office. She wanted to struggle, but in her heart, she wanted her fingers to get better as quickly as possible so she could play once more.<p>

Escape. Escape. Escape.

She stared intently at her fingers as she gently picked at the bandages that clumsily covered her cuts. They were there as a result of her roommate as well. She wanted the cuts there but she wanted them gone at the same time. If her fingers hurt, she didn't have to think about the other things that hurt her.

Escape. Escape. Escape.

Tentatively, she applied slight pressure to her fingertip and winced at the pain that lanced through her. Once the pain dropped down to a dull ache, she applied pressure to the next fingertip.

"If you're making a face like that, you should probably stop."

She turned suddenly at the sound of the voice next to her. She saw a young man staring at her with warm blue eyes, blond hair and a soft smile on his lips. Her eyes explored him as she continued to hold her fingertip. After a few seconds, she realized he was waiting for her to answer.

"E-Excuse me?" She managed after a few more awkward moments of silence.

"You keep pressing on your fingertips and grimacing like it really hurts," He said as he indicated her fingers, "If it hurts so much, you should probably stop."

"Yeah, I probably should," She said as she looked down at her hands once more. Even though the words came out of her mouth, she continued to systematically apply pressure to each fingertip.

"You say that but you keep going, huh?" She heard the young man comment from beside her, "Guess since I don't know you it's not really my place to chastise."

"Guess not," She stated as she continued applying pressure. Maybe she would put just a little bit more this time…

"Are you a musician?"

"H-Huh? How did you-?" She stammered in surprise. It was the young man asking once more as he smiled politely at her.

"Ah, I guessed right," He said with a wide grin as he obviously reveled in his ability to guess correctly.

"So you just guessed?"

"Well it wasn't just absolutely random. I had some clues to go on."

"…Such as?" She wasn't quite sure why she was carrying on this conversation. Perhaps it was in an attempt to think about anything but what her mind had been thinking about non-stop.

"Your fingertips are all torn up. I just guess that you played some sort of string instrument and it looks like I was right. So, what do you play?"

"The harp…but I'm guessing it's going to be awhile before I'll be able to play again."

"But at least you don't have to throw it away indefinitely." The way he said it caused her to turn her head and study him. He was no longer looking at her, but was instead staring at an indiscriminant spot on the wall with a faraway look in his eyes.

"What do you mean by that?" She ventured as she continued to study him.

"I used to be a singer. I was involved in any sort of singing I could get my hands on. Singing in a choir, singing in musicals, fronting a band; any form of singing I was involved in it. Every time I sang, it was like I got to be someone else for just a little bit; I got to live someone else's life. It was a truly liberating feeling."

By this point, she was listening with rapt attention. What he was describing, the way he was talking about singing, it was exactly how playing the harp felt to her. When she was playing the harp, she wasn't confined by the reality of her life; she could be anyone, everyone or no one. She had never expected to find another individual like her in the world. It was interesting and, for reasons she couldn't explain, frightening.

"But…" He said as his voice faltered for the first time and she was drawn back to reality. The young man's eyes had fallen from the wall and he was staring at the floor as his hands absentmindedly scratched at his neck. The girl felt her eyes go wide.

The young man's wrists were covered in bandages that had traces of rust red stains.

The two of them fell into a heavy silence before the girl finally managed to find her voice once more.

"…But?" She prompted gently in a voice barely above a whisper.

"But," The young man finally conceded as he spoke once more, "I kept doing it over and over again without ever taking a break. If I wanted to be the best, there was no way I could rest. That's what I convinced myself anyways. But no matter how hard I tried, there always seemed to be someone who was passing me and that only pushed me to keep going as hard as possible. I pushed reality away and continued to live in the world I had created."

Escape. Escape. Escape.

"I'm guessing it…didn't end well."

The man gave a bitter laugh as leaned back in his chair and looked at the ceiling. The girl was starting to notice that he was intentionally avoiding looking at her.

"Yeah, it didn't end well. I ended up killing my vocal cords; you wouldn't believe how many polyps there can be on one throat. Even after they performed surgery on it, I wasn't allowed to go back to singing. The doctors said it was too risky and if I continued to perform like I was I would lose my voice for good. I thought I had nothing to live for."

Escape. Escape. Escape.

"Are you here for a check up on your throat?"

"Now you know you don't believe that. I know you saw my wrists. I'm here to see a counselor. They say that if I have someone to talk to, I may be able to get over it."

"But…but you can't escape any more. W-What are you going to do?"

She wanted an answer to that herself. She didn't know. She wouldn't be able to play the harp. Before, she would have talked and spent time with him. But he was gone.

The young man finally turned to her and gave her a small smile. The girl couldn't help but return it with a tiny smile of her own.

"I don't think I have the answer to that honestly. I guess only time will tell, huh?"

All she could do was give a nod of her head in agreement.

He was right. There was no way to tell what the future held.

Suddenly, a door opened and they both turned their head to see a nurse enter the room. She smiled at them both kindly before she motioned for the boy to follow her. Without a word, she began to walk down the hallway towards the rooms for the patients.

"Well, I guess that means it's my turn to go," The young man said as he stood up, "It was nice meeting you."

"Ah, wait!" She said as she also stood up, "Do you…do you…think you could tell me your name?"

Why was she pursuing this? She was still recovering! She shouldn't be getting herself involved with another boy!

"It's Leon," The boy responded with an easy smile, "And now I only think it's fair that you tell me your name."

"It's…Aria," She lied instantly. She wasn't ready to trust him yet with her true name.

"Aria? So even your name ties you to music…" Leon responded with another smile, "Then I'll see you later Aria."

With that he turned and headed down the hallway that the nurse had just entered. She watched him go until he disappeared around a corner at the end of the hallway. When he was finally out of sight, she sat down in the chair once more as a small smile lit her face.

Leon…he was just like her. She couldn't quite explain why, but she wanted to know him better. He was definitely cute, but it was more than that. It was more than that.

She was sure.

She convinced herself.

She wasn't just replacing him.

But at the back of her mind, she couldn't stop the voice from intoning it's message clear and deep as a bell.

You're just using Leon. You're replacing him.

Escape. Escape. Escape.


	9. Len x Aoki

**A/N:** I'm still debating if it's easier to write based off instrumental pieces or pieces with lyrics. Instrumental allows you to be more abstract, but lyrics give you at least a base to start your story. Hmm...maybe it just depends on the song I suppose? ...Kay, I'm done rambling.

Many, many thanks to Ten-Faced, TheNextAlice, Otaku4Life, princedwardriviera, and yiseunggi (x3!) for their reviews! You guys are very sweet and I don't really have the words to thank you!

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><p>Song: Iris - Professor Layton and the Diabolical Box OST<p>

Couple: LenxAoki

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><p>"I don't want it, you take it!"<p>

"Nu-uh! Dad gave it to you! It's your job to look after it!"

"But it's so girly! A boy can't have something like this!"

"Nope! Your job! I'm gonna go play with Miku! See ya later Len!"

"Rin!"

But his call fell on silent ears as his sister dashed out the door and around the corner. Len stood up and poked his head out the door to see his sister descend the stairs two at a time. The young boy felt his frown deepen as he cupped his hands around his mouth.

"You're a big jerk face!" He called, thinking of the best insult his six year old mind could come up with.

Satisfied that he had successfully injured his sister's pride with his wonderful insult he headed back into his room and sat on the floor with a huff. Although he had managed to, in his mind, win the argument with his sister, he was still stuck with the source of their argument.

An intricately detailed music box sat innocently on the floor.

Currently, it was tilted on its side, abandoned after being fought over by the twins. Len had no idea why his dad had chosen to give it to him; it was super girly; he should have given it to his sister!

But no, his dad insisted that the music box was meant for him and that he was responsible for it. His attempts to pawn the trinket off on his sister had ended terribly and now he was left with a girly box and a foul mood.

"Just why did dad give it to me anyways?" He asked the question aloud as he took the delicate box in his hands. He stared at it for a moment. It seemed to be perfectly normal, if not overly ornate. Len turned it over in his hands looking for some secret; some hidden door that his father wanted him to find.

But every way he turned it, the box looked just like a normal box. He couldn't imagine that his father would give him a music box that didn't hide _some_ sort of secret, so in one more effort to discover the secret, he held the box to his ear and began to shake it.

He heard the typical sounds of loose things in the box clanging up against one another. But in addition to this, he heard a sound that he never expected.

It sounded like a tiny scream was coming from inside the box.

Len drew his head back instinctively as he looked at the box with newfound suspicion. A box that screamed, now that was interesting. His excitement building, he shook the box once more, this time even more violently than before. Again, his young ears thought he heard the sound of a frightened scream.

His excitement growing, he flipped the box so it was right-side up, quickly undid the latch and tore the top of the box open. Inside he saw that the box was lined with soft, crushed velvet that shimmered in the dim light of the florescent bulb of his room. But as much as he scrutinized the inside of the box, he couldn't find anything that could be the source of the scream.

"It really is just a boring old girly box," He said with annoyance and a hint of anger as he haphazardly dropped the box to the ground. He headed for the door without looking back. Maybe his best friend Piko would be able to play…

"It's not very polite to shake my home like that and then just throw me away."

Len paused and looked back into the room. Had someone gotten in somehow? But as his eyes swept the room, he saw nothing; no person standing there that had somehow flown up to his second-floor window and into the room. Eventually his eyes settled on where he had unceremoniously dropped the music box.

He felt his eyes go wide in surprise.

Sitting on the box was a tiny girl who looked like she could fit perfectly in the palm of his hand. She had a large blue gem seemingly glued to the top of her head and blue hair that matched perfectly with her blue eyes. She was rubbing her head as she looked up at Len with slightly annoyed eyes.

Len's interest was instantly recaptured by the box as he headed back into the room. He knelt down and looked at the tiny girl that had seemingly emerged from the music box; she stared back with large blue eyes. It was like something out of one of the fairytales his sister loved to read.

"Are you a fairy?" he breathed in wonder as he looked at the girl.

"A fairy?" The girl echoed as she looked up at him, "I guess that's pretty close to what I am. I'm actually the spirit of the music box you were shaking before."

"Were you that one who was yelling?"

"Well yes. I don't really like it when people shake my home; it makes me bang my head against the walls," She said as she rubbed at one of the sore spots on her head.

"Sorry, but I didn't think there would be a fairy in the music box."

The small girl gave a light, musical laugh.

"No one ever does," She commented, "I can't tell you how many times I've been shaken up without someone realizing I'm there at all."

"But if you don't want to be shaken, why don't you just leave the music box like you are right now?"

"I can only leave if someone opens the lid, and even then I can't go very far. I am the spirit of the music box after all. If I was able to come and go as I pleased, most likely I wouldn't come back and then what kind of spirit would I be?"

By this point, Len had stopped listening to the girl's soft voice that rang like bells. He was already beginning to contemplate what all his friends would have to say about the mysterious girl that lived in the music box. He could already imagine the angry look on his sister's face once she realized the prize she had willingly given up.

"She's gonna be so mad!" He whispered aloud with a soft, childish giggle.

"Excuse me? Who's going to be mad?"

Len realized for the first time that the girl was still looking up at him with her large, clear eyes. She had once more moved so she was sitting inside the music box rather than on top of it. The soft, red velvet seemed to almost swallow her.

"My sister of course!" He said excitedly as he picked up the music box, with the small fairy still sitting on it, "She always talks about fairies and mermaids and girly stuff like that, so she's gonna hate that she gave up the music box that you were in."

"Well, that sounds wonderful but-"

"We've gotta go see her and everyone else right now!" Len said as he stood and dashed towards the door. He was careful to tuck the music box under one arm in an attempt to insure that it shook as little as possible – was it possible for fairies to get motion sick?

"Wa-Wait a minute!" Came the sound of the small voice, "You have to stop! Please stop Len!"

At the sound of his name, Len stopped with his hand on the doorknob of his room. He removed the box from under his arm and looked at the young girl suspiciously.

"How did you know my name?" He asked as he glared down at her.

"The girl you were arguing with earlier said it," She exclaimed with a soft-smile that almost forced Len to stop glaring…almost.

"Oh. So you didn't use your fairy magic to find out my name?" Len asked with honest disappointment in his voice.

"I already explained to you that I'm not a fairy, I'm a spirit of the music box."

"So you can't do spirit magic or anything? That's super boring."

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, but that's just the way spirits work. We're not nearly as fantastical as the stories like to make us."

"You sound like you know a lot about this stuff."

"Well I have been around for a long time."

"Are you…old enough to be my grandma?"

The girl answered the question with a laugh that caused the gem on top of her head to bob with her movements. Len really didn't see what was so funny about his question; he had never met a fairy – or rather, a spirit, he quickly corrected himself – and he thought it was a good question.

"You don't gotta laugh! You're just like my sister!" Len said with a pout as he plopped to the ground and crossed his arms across his chest to display his displeasure. He allowed the music box to drop heedlessly to the floor as the spirit gave a squeak as she was rattled slightly.

"I'm sorry," She apologized quickly as she climbed out of the box and gave Len a consoling pat on his knee, "The questions just…surprised me, that's all. Most people like to ask things like how many years I've been in the box or how long it's been since I've talked with someone. This is the first time someone asked me if I'm old enough to be their grandmother."

"Well…I guess that's alright," Len conceded as he uncrossed his arms, "So…are you older?"

Another light laugh issued forth. Len couldn't help but think that this spirit girl was super giggly.

"I can safely say that I'm older than your grandmother, unless she's about a thousand years old."

"Y-You're a thousand years old?" Len asked with sudden interest as he leaned in so he was closer to where the small girl was standing.

"That's right," She said with a soft nod of her head, "I've been watching over your forefathers for a thousand years."

"…Forefathers?" Len echoed. It wasn't a word he had ever heard.

"Ah, sorry, I forgot how young you are."

"I'm not young!" Len said as he once more crossed his arms, "I'm six whole years old! My mom told me I'm almost a grown-up now!"

"You're absolutely right. You're going to grow up before you know it…" The spirit responded as her voice dropped significantly in volume.

"Yup! And then I'm gonna be an astronaut or, or a fireman or, or a police man!" Len said as he grew more and more excited.

"Is that so?" The spirit answered as her voice perked up once more, "You sound like you have a lot of plans for the future."

"Yeah! One day I'm gonna – wait a minute," Len cut himself off abruptly as he realized something for the first time, "I don't know your name. My mom told me not to strangers…even if that was only people strangers, I'm pretty sure I'm not supposed to talk to spirit strangers either."

"That's right, I got so caught up in the excitement that I forgot to introduce myself!" The girl said as she gasped slightly in surprise. She took a few steps back from Len and gave a deep bow, "My name is Aoki Lapis. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"My name is Len!" Len responded, even though it was unnecessary for him to do such, "It's nice to meet you Miss. Lapis!"

"Feel free to just call me Aoki. I don't think I could get used to being called by my last name."

"Aoki? Okay! Now that we know each other's names, we're officially friends!" Len said with a wide grin plastered on his face.

"Is that so?" Aoki responded with one of her characteristic giggles, "Does that mean that we're allowed to talk about your plans for the future now?"

"Of course! See, one day I'm gonna be a fireman and when I get bored with that…"

The two of them talked long into the day about any and every topic that came to Len's mind. He talked about school, his mean sister Rin, his best friends, his favorite foods his mom would cook for him; anything important in his six year old life was discussed and Aoki listened patiently and smiled kindly at every comment made.

Len knew instantly that he wouldn't be sharing the secret of Aoki with anyone; she was his friend and his alone. If his mother knew, she would scold him for being greedy, but in that moment, Len didn't really care.

He couldn't quite explain it, but he enjoyed talking to Aoki and listening to her laugh at his answers. As time went on, he almost made it a personal goal to make her laugh so he could once more hear her small laugh that rang like bells. When he was forced to come downstairs to eat dinner by his mother, all he could think about was Aoki sitting up in the room by her lonesome. It was such a sad picture that he ate dinner as quickly as humanly possible in order to get back to Aoki.

Before Len realized it, it was time for him to head off to bed. With reluctance, he crawled into bed and pulled the covers over himself. He turned to look at the nightstand where he had moved Aoki's music box. The girl in question was staring at him with her big, blue eyes as she smiled pleasantly.

"You should probably go to sleep soon," She commented, "You do have school tomorrow after all."

"Yeah…but if I go to bed you'll be all alone…" Len said with a deep frown.

"Don't worry about me," She replied, rewarding Len's concern for her with one of her giggles, "I'll get some sleep."

"…Do you promise?" Len asked with honest concern.

"Of course."

"You have to pinky promise," Len said as he held out his pinky towards the tiny girl. The girl's face twisted into surprise for a second before it once more melted into a smile and she gave a nod of her head. She took Len's pinky into her tiny palm as she looked at him and met his eyes. Her palm felt warm on his finger and the comfort of the touch filled his entire body with a comforting glow of happiness.

"I promise that I will go to bed after you do."

"If you lie you have to swallow a thousand needles," Len said seriously.

"And if I lie I have to swallow a thousand needles," Aoki agreed.

"Good, it's an official promise then," Len stated before he withdrew his hand and snuggled down into his covers. He was trying his best to stay awake and talk with Aoki for a few more moments, but his body was beginning to answer the siren call of sleep. He tried to suppress a yawn, but it managed to escape anyways.

"You look like you're about to fall asleep," Aoki commented from her current spot on the closed lid of her music box.

"No I'm not! I have to stay up so you can tell me about my for…um…forsomething," Len replied as he failed to recall the word Aoki used earlier.

"Your forefathers?"

"Yeah, them."

"Well, how about we make a deal. I have a lullaby that's known in the spirit world for forcing sleepy children to go to bed. If you manage to stay up through the whole thing, we'll talk about your forefathers, alright?"

"Sounds good to me! I'm really good at staying up so there's no way I'll lose!" Len responded confidently.

Aoki smiled, but she didn't voice any response. Instead, she began to hum a soft melody that was warm and soothing. The notes seemed to envelop Len in a blanket of safety and no matter how hard he fought, he couldn't do away with the sleepy feeling that descended into his entire body. Before he realized what was going on, his eyes began to close and his breathing began to slow.

The last thing he remembered before he drifted off to sleep was the image of Aoki sitting on her music box and looking sadly at him as she continued to sing. But that couldn't have been right; she was the giggliest person he knew. She didn't have any reason to be sad…

Right?

* * *

><p>She had lied.<p>

As the song reached its conclusion and the final few notes faded into silence, Aoki stood from where she was sitting on the music box and looked to where Len lay. His breathing was deep and even and a small smile colored his face indicating that he was having a pleasant dream.

Aoki couldn't help but feel her heart fill with sadness.

He looked so much like all the others.

Working methodically, Aoki made her way down the side table as stopped when she was standing inches from Len's face. As she watched his blissful, sleeping face, she couldn't help but think of all the other boys she had watched grow-up.

She had been watching the Kagamine boys grow up for a thousand years. They were always sweet and adorable as children; that was the time she enjoyed most. They would speak to her every night about their hopes and aspirations and she would listen.

The older they became, the more it hurt. Slowly they all began to grow away from her as they became interested in other things, they stopped talking to her and soon forgot about the music box altogether. Every time, she would watch them grow from afar and she would left without a singular friend in the world.

She had lied.

She had one type of magic she could use; a magic spell that could compel a person to give the music box to someone else of her choosing.

To activate the spell, all she had to do was sacrifice all the memories the individual had of her. They would give away the music box without any knowledge that she lived inside.

She had done it so many times that she liked to believe herself numb to it. But she knew that was wrong. Every time she had to erase one of her friend's memories, her heart felt like it was torn from her chest.

As she watched Len sleep, she sat down on the bed with a sigh and hugged her knees to her chest. She didn't want to do it again! She didn't want to do it again!

This time was going to be different!

But she had told herself that many times before. It was never true. It was always the same.

"Please Len…" She prayed silently as a stray tear rolled down her cheek, "Please let this time be different. I just want…I just want…someone to remember me…"

In her heart, she knew it was more than that.

She wanted someone to love her; she wanted to be the most important person in someone's life.

Judging by the past thousand years, it was impossible; he would forget just like the rest.

But she couldn't completely silence the hope in her heart.

"...I'm sorry Len, I guess I'll have to swallow a thousand needles," She said quietly, "Spirits don't have the ability to sleep..."

It was another lie she had told.

It was another thing that separated her from being a human.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I don't like this chapter. Also, will I ever make an altruistically happy story? ...Probably not. Maybe I should pose that as a challenge to myself...


	10. Lui x Lola

**A/N:** Hey, it's number ten! That means I'm 1/10 of the way done with this project! ...I'm not sure which is worse; the fact that I noticed that or the fact that I'm actually excited about it. Well anyways, thanks to everyone that's stuck with me through the first 10 and here's hoping for the best with the next 90!

First we had LeonxIA and now we have LuixLola. Random selection must like for me to have new Vocaloids paired with old Vocaloids.

Many, many thanks to these wonderful reviewers: princedwardriviera, TheNextAlice and Ten-Face. You guys helped me to get to the (not so) great milestone of 1/10 the way there!

* * *

><p>Song: Garden Lullaby - Gary Stadler<p>

Couple: LuixLola

* * *

><p>The young boy felt a sigh escape his lips as he watched the last sliver of the late summer sunset dip below the horizon. The air was still thick with the heat and sticky moisture of the recently departed day and the boy couldn't help but shift restlessly. He had come out into the gardens to get away from all the hectic activity inside, but the hot air made him uncomfortable.<p>

Although, he knew that he would pick the uncomfortable feeling of the hot air over the uncomfortable feeling of being in that house any day.

It wasn't as if the individuals in the house were annoying or rude; they had been rather kind to him actually. But the day had consisted of tiring self-introductions and other platitudes, most of which he responded to with a slight smile and a deep bow. When he didn't respond with an introduction of his own, the individual would look at him strangely, perhaps make some form of nervous remark, before moving on to the other new recruit, Ring.

As the introductions continued to drag on and the number of odd stares he received increased, he couldn't help but feel his smile become more strained. After the long precession line was finished, Ring went off somewhere with several of the girls, chatting happily as she motioned animatedly. He was left alone.

That left the young twelve year old in a house of strangers with no one to spend time with. For reasons he couldn't quite explain, a suffocating feeling of panic descended upon him as this realization struck him. He knew he had to get out of there. Now.

So he had found his way into the backyard of the giant mansion he was now supposed to call home. As his eyes surveyed the backyard, he noted how it was comparatively small to the house. But in his mind, this wasn't an unwelcome revelation. On the contrary, he quite liked the cozy, almost secret feeling.

He was just about to take a meandering stroll through the scattered tress and flowerbeds when something out of the ordinary caught his eye and caused him to stop. In the rapidly fading light, he saw someone bending over one of the flowerbeds and throwing up dirt as they worked. It wasn't anyone the boy knew, which was odd considering he had supposedly just been introduced to everyone that lived here.

Maybe this person was a gardener of some sort? But…a gardener that came when the sun was nearly setting? Any way he thought to look at it, a gardener being here this late was most definitely atypical…

Curiosity quickly overriding caution, he took a few hesitant steps towards the figure. As he drew closer, he noticed that the individual was muttering to themselves as they went about their work. He stopped just a few steps behind the individual's back, not quite sure what to do with himself now that he had reached this point.

"It's a wonder any of these flowers survive at all; no one really cares for them besides me. They're always too busy with their careers to stop and do anything else…Well whatever, at least I had time to pull weeds today."

The boy felt his heart jump in his chest as the individual stood up abruptly and turned around to leave, only to stop short when she – for she was indeed a girl – came face to face with him. Her face showed easily readable surprise as the two of them stared at one another in silence for what felt like forever to the young boy. He could feel his cheeks flush in embarrassment as the woman's eyes ran up and down, evaluating him.

"…Who are you?" The woman asked, her evaluation apparently done. The question wasn't threatening or mean; it was simply asked out of curiousity.

He wanted desperately to answer, he even moved his lips in an attempt to form words, but he knew the effort to be futile. No matter how desperately he wished to talk, he wouldn't be able to.

He was too scared.

"Can you…not talk or something?" The girl asked after several more seconds of silence. The young boy's face dropped considerably and gave a deliberate shake of his head as his smile tinged with sadness.

"I would ask what exactly you're doing in this house if you can't speak, but I'm sure that the producers must have something in mind," She said as she scratched at the back of her head and looked off into the distance, "Well, are you just gonna stand there and stare at me?"

Once more, he wanted to form an answer, but he didn't know how. He wanted to let her know that he wanted to talk with her; he wanted to let her know that he wanted to be friends with her.

To his surprise, he heard her give a deep laugh.

"You don't have to look so distraught," She said as her voice continued to bounce with laughter, "If you really want to, we can talk."

_How?_ He wanted to ask.

As if in answer to his unvoiced question, the woman bent down on the ground and picked something up that the boy hadn't noticed before. When she rose again and presented it to the boy, he couldn't help but tilt his head in confusion.

She was holding a notebook that was filled with rows and rows of numbers. He took it reluctantly into his hands and looked up at her.

"It's my journal where I keep track of the growth of the flowers," She explained in response to his confusion, "Just turn to a blank page and write what you want to say. I just finished gardening, so I'm gonna go sit down. You're free to join me if you want to."

Without waiting for any sort of confirmation from him, the woman headed off towards the side of the garden where a bench was set against a fence. She sat down with a satisfied smile and closed her eyes in contentment. The boy simply stared at her for a few moments before he quickly walked over to where she was sitting and plopped down next to her.

Taking the pencil from its location inside the spiral on the side of the notebook and turning to a blank page, the young boy quickly scrawled on the page. Once he was done writing his message, he turned to look at the woman, but her eyes were still closed and she seemed to be ignoring him. Reluctantly, he gently tapped on her shoulder.

Her eyes opened instantly and she turned to look at the young boy who was holding out the notebook with nervousness coloring his eyes. She gave a slight smile and, to the boy's infinite relief, took the notebook from him.

_"My name is Lui; what's yours?"_

The girl turned to him and gave a slight smile before she handed the notebook back to Lui.

"Lola," She answered simply. The young boy's face lit slightly as he once more turned to scribbling at the notebook Lola had given him.

_"It's a pleasure to meet you Lola. What exactly were you doing in the garden earlier?"_

"That? I was just tending to the flowers. There were some weeds that needed to be pulled. I guess it could have waited till tomorrow, but I wanted to get it done today."

She was gardening? Lui allowed his eyes to sweep over the woman. Her short, cropped black hair and startling red eyes didn't really fit with the image he commonly associated with someone who liked gardening. Add in the fact that she was wearing tight fitting black, leather pants and a shimmery black shirt that hung off one of her shoulders, Lui couldn't help but doubt her claim. From what he knew about gardening, which he would admit was very little, this girl seemed very unlikely to engage in it.

"I can tell by the look on your face that you don't believe me," Lola said, which caused his face to color in embarrassment at being caught, "Well I suppose it's up to you if you want to believe me, but it's the truth. I love gardening, whether it fits with my 'persona' or not."

The was silence once more as Lui stared down at the notebook in his hands, trying to formulate another question. He felt like the last question had struck a nerve, and he was afraid that he would lose the only person who was willing to speak with him. He needed a safe conversation and fast.

_"I didn't see you earlier today when I was being introduced to everyone,"_ He wrote quickly, _"If you don't mind my asking, where were you?"_

"Ah," Lola said when she read what he wrote, "You must have been one of the new members everyone was talking about. Isn't there supposed to be a boy and a girl coming? Where did the boy get off to?"

Lui felt his face heat in keen embarrassment; Lola didn't realize that _he_ was the boy who was arriving. He knew that many people had incorrectly thought he was a girl before, but somehow Lola thinking it made his heart sink.

_"Actually, I'm the boy. Ring's the girl and she's hanging out with several of the other girl's in the house."_

"…You're a boy huh?" Lola said as her eyes once more swept over Lui, "The way you're dressed up I would have never guessed. How old are you anyways?"

_"I'm twelve."_

"You're that young?" Lola said with what sounded like disgust, "They never listen to me when I tell them it's not good for young kids to be exposed to this stuff. I mean look at you! You should be wearing T-shirts and baggy pants, not clothes that makes you look little better than a desperate hooker!"

As Lola continued to speak, Lui felt his face continue to heat in embarrassment. He looked down at the outfit the producers had told him to wear, and he couldn't help but pull uncomfortably on the shorts he was wearing. It hadn't been his choice to wear this clothing; when the producers brought him to the house, they gave him the clothing and told him to wear it. He was afraid to argue with them out of fear that he would disappoint them.

"…Sorry," Lola said with a long sigh as she collected herself, "I really shouldn't be taking this out on you. I guess I'm just…annoyed. It's not your fault or anything like that."

_"It's alright."_

"Not really. I've been told I have a really bad temper when I get worked up about things. Actually, now that I think back on it, my short temper's the reason I ended up cutting and dying my hair. It's also the reason that I wear colored contacts…"

_"If you don't mind me asking, what exactly do you mean by that?"_

"You talk like a little gentleman, don't you?" Lola asked with a wide grin before she reached over and lightly ruffled Lui's hair, "To answer your question, when I first came into the business and it was only me and my brother – Leon, if you wanted to know; you probably met him earlier - around, the producers kept talking about how I needed to change my voice to fit my image. If you can imagine it, my hair was curly and blonde back then, but apparently that image didn't fit with my naturally deep singing voice. Some people even mistook me for a boy because of my voice, which just managed to piss me off to no end."

Lui couldn't help but think how her situation was similar to his own. True, her problem was that people mistook her as a boy because of her voice instead of his problem which stemmed from his looks and attitude, but still, he felt an odd sort of kinship with this woman he had just met.

"So one day, I had enough of them telling me to change my voice; I knew it was never going to happen, no matter how much they asked. So that evening, I went out, got my hair cut short, got it dyed black, and bought some red contacts. Want to know the first thing they did when I showed up the next morning? They _complimented_ me on my singing voice. If Leon hadn't stopped me, I think I might be in jail for murder charges at this point."

_"Why did their compliments make you angry?"_

"Why? Because I was exactly the same damn person! But suddenly, they're saying 'Oh her voice sounds so good now!' or 'She sounds like she improved a lot!'. I didn't change one thing about my voice; it was just the idiot public being influenced by what they saw rather than what they heard."

As her rant ended, Lui gave no response. He instead continued to stare down at the notebook that rested in his lap. His mind was buzzing with questions he wanted to ask and comments he wanted to make. He wanted to let her knew that he understood what she went through; he wanted to let her know that he was sure he would appreciate the sound of his voice no matter what she looked like; he wanted to let her know that he would never judge her based on looks.

But he couldn't help but remember how he had thought it was out of character for her to be gardening when he first met her. The thought caused his cheeks to color with shame.

"Sheesh, listen to me rant on and on about my problems to a twelve year old kid!" He heard Lola say from his side, "Guess I just took advantage of the fact that you can't talk to force all my problems on to you. Sorry."

_"Please don't concern yourself with that. But…I think it's only fair that I share something with you."_

"You really don't have to," Lola said with a shake of her head, "I was really just ranting away and you happened to be here to hear it."

_"No, I _want_ to tell this to someone. Would you please listen?"_

"Alright, alright, write away."

The two of them fell into silence once more as Lui began to write slowly and methodically in Lola's notebook. He wanted to make sure he worded everything perfectly before presenting it to the older girl. After several minutes of silence, Lui was satisfied enough with the results that he handed it off to Lola.

_"I actually can talk. I'm just scared. Ever since I was first selected to be a part of this group, the producers kept talking about how they would find me the 'perfect' voice to fit with my image. They had me try lots of different styles and ranges, but none of them seemed to please them. Everything I did wasn't good enough. _I_ wasn't good enough. It scared me. I guess I thought if I didn't talk they couldn't tell me I wasn't good enough. If I didn't talk, the public wouldn't tell me that my voice wasn't good enough. I've gotten so used to it, that it's almost like there's this barrier whenever I want to talk and no matter how hard I try, the words won't come out."_

Lui watched anxiously as Lola read over the words he had just written. When she set the notebook down on her lap, apparently done with her reading, she turned to look at him. To his surprise, her eyes were hard and angry. He wanted desperately to apologize, but she still held the notepad, cutting off his only means of communication.

The next thing that happened was even more surprising than her angry glare.

She took her into his arms and gave him a warm hug. Lui was too surprised to return the action, and by the time he realized he should probably hug her back, she had already broken away and was sitting once more on her half of the bench. It had been such a sudden and unexpected action that Lui couldn't help but wonder if he had just dreamed it.

"This is why I keep telling the producers to stop involving kids in this industry," Lola said with a hard edge to her voice, "But if you want some advice from me, I say screw the public. If they're not happy with your voice, it's their loss. Besides, I'm sure your voice is perfectly fine. When you start talking again, I would love to sing a duet with you."

Lola looked over at him then and smiled, and Lui couldn't help but smile back broadly as his cheeks flared with colored. He realized as he smiled that it was his first honest smile since he had arrived at the mansion that was to be his home.

"Man, would you look how high the moon is up," Lola commented as she handed the notebook back to Lui and stood up from the bench, "We should probably head back inside, don't you think?"

Lui stood up hastily next to her and scribbled another note before quickly handing it to her.

_"I know this may be rude, but do you think I could ask how old you are?"_

"How old I am?" Lola echoed in confusion, "Well, I just turned twenty-five recently. Why do you ask?"

She was significantly older than him. As he allowed his eyes to sink to the floor, his heart sank more than he expected; why exactly was he so sorely disappointed in the fact that she was significantly older than him?

Suddenly, Lui felt his head phones being removed from his head. He looked up abruptly to see Lola holding them in her hand with a smile. Once more, she ruffled his hair, which caused an intermingling of joy and displeasure to run through Lui. Ruffling a person's hair was something you did to children, not to someone you thought of as an equal.

"Don't look so downtrodden. Someday you'll be as old as me and then you can complain about all the kids they're bringing into this line of work," She said, misinterpreting the reason for Lui's sudden down-hearted nature, "Until then, just keep doing your best. I'll be there to watch you grow into a wonderful performer and beat up anybody if need be."

With her message delivered, she began to head back towards the house. Lui watched her retreating back for a few moments and gripped the notebook he was still holding tightly in his hands. He had to thank her! He had to thank her! She had been so kind and all he had been able to do was complain and use up pages in her important notebook.

The first friend he made in his new home and he couldn't even thank her properly.

He opened his mouth and willed the words to come out, but he was met with silence. He prayed desperately and shut his eyes as he tried to deconstruct the wall his mind had built. But it was hopeless. The words he so desperately wanted to say were locked away.

Unexpectedly, he felt hot, bitter tears begin to roll down his cheeks as he wept silently. Why couldn't he say it? Why couldn't he say it?

Thank you.

Thank you.

He just wanted to let her know.

But although his mouth was open and his lips were moving, no sound escaped. His silent thanks could be heard by no one.

"You're welcome."

Lui felt his heart stop in his chest as he heard the sound of a familiar voice and felt a slim hand tousling his hair. When he opened his eyes, he was looking at the gently smiling face of Lola. He quickly worked to wipe his tears away as the older woman gently played with his hair.

"You wanted to thank me, right? Well, you're welcome," Lola answered in a low and comforting voice that caused Lui's heart to pick up speed. He quickly pulled out the notebook and prepared to write the question that plagued his thoughts.

"Don't worry about writing," He heard Lola say, causing his to raise his head to look at her, "You want to know how I knew what you were saying, right?"

Lui answered her question with a nod of her head.

"Because you're a little gentleman and you would never let me leave without thanking me," Lola said with a wide grin. Lui stared at her in surprise for a few moments before he felt his face break into a smile of its own.

"Ah, there you go; you look much better when you smile. Now come one, we better get back before everyone starts wondering where we are."

With a strong nod of his head in agreement, Lui and Lola headed back towards the house together. As the two of them walked, Lui couldn't help but continue to steal glances at Lola's hand that was dangerously close to his own. If only he was a little bolder, he would have reached out and held her hand the entire walk home.

Instead, the two of them walked in a comfortable silence as Lui hoped that someday he would be able to find his voice once more. Maybe it was wrong; maybe it was just a one-sided precocious crush that could never be a reality, but when that day came, Lui knew exactly what would be the first thing he said to Lola.

I love you.


	11. Kaito and Yuki

**A/N:** Let me say something for the record; the chapters that concern Ryuto and Yuki most likely won't be romantic in the typical sense. I'm accepting of a lot of things, but having a six year old or nine year old in a serious relationship doesn't sit well with me. With that said, sorry for the wait and sorry this chapter is a little bit shorter than the rest...I've been having major writers block...

**WARNING!: **This chapter deals with some _very _serious and heavy subject matter (no, not pedophilia) that includes graphic gory descriptions. If you are sensitive to this sort of thing, PLEASE skip over this chapter.

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><p>Song: "Raindrop" Prelude, Op 28, No. 15 - Fredric Chopin<p>

Characters Involved: Kaito & Yuki

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><p>It had started off so innocently. He didn't mean to hurt her. He just wanted someone to pass the time with; a companion; a compatriot.<p>

A friend.

Yes, that was right. He just wanted a friend; he just wanted _her_ to be his friend. It should have been so simple; it should have been so easy. They could have talked for hours, their laughter ringing together in the air, forming a perfect harmony of bells.

He was getting better.

Having a friend shouldn't have been beyond his capabilities. He was going to be a "normal" human once more. There would be no more reason for anyone (No, for this child) to fear him; he was being fixed; he was being made better.

At least that's what the doctors told him.

They were making great progress. He had reverted back to eating regular foods – eating regular meats. Everything was going to be alright; everything was going to be okay. There would be no more reason for him to indulge in those sick pleasures (Are they really so sick? I can't help but wonder) and he could once more rejoin society.

But they couldn't see into his head. They couldn't see into his heart. They couldn't see into his desires.

All other meats he ate weren't enough. He had been admitted (forced into coming) to the hospital once he confided his twisted, dark, secret to his lover. She was supposed to accept him, wasn't she? She was supposed to help him get through his problems, wasn't she?

Instead, he had been shut away in this dark and uncaring room. His lover never came to visit him. He had poured out his heart and he had been left to rot; to rot and "get better". He kept hearing that phrase. "Get better". It meant nothing to him.

He wasn't sick. Sick people were the ones they took to hospitals, right? But he wasn't sick (I'm not. But apparently she disagreed) so he didn't need to be in a hospital. He was just different.

Different in a twisted way.

Different in a way that needed to be corrected.

He was a freak.

He could tell by the way all the nurses looked at him; the way they skirted his bed further than need be. He was a freak; he was going to kill them; he was going to kill them and then move on to…that. Something so horrible they dare not even say the name in fear it would somehow stir his desires. They all simply referred to it as his "illness". The "illness" was what caused them to fear him; they feared that they were going to be his next victim.

(They're probably right)

But it was okay. He was handcuffed to the bed. He couldn't get to them. They were safe as long as they didn't come within range of his mouth.

He was getting better.

Soon the handcuffs would go and the fear in their eyes would increase (Or will it go away? I don't think it's likely) and he would lose any chance he had for normality (Do I even want normality?).

He was getting better.

The doctors were wrong.

Their charts could say he was getting better; their tests could say he was getting better; everyone in the world could say he was getting better. But that didn't make it a reality. He wasn't getting better (I was never sick to begin with. They just kept telling me that).

If anything, he was getting worse.

Every person that entered his room – even those that simply passed in the hallway – he could sense their fear, hear their heartbeat. It drove him crazy. They were so close and yet so far away. They were like woodland animals, and he was the hunter. They were frightened and thought that if they ran fast enough, they could outrun the gun or escape the reality of the hunter chasing after them.

They were wrong.

They could run, they could hide, but they couldn't escape him (How can they hope to with their hearts beating so fast?). Once he was freed from his bonds, he would have his burning desires granted. He would finally get to taste what he had inexplicably longed after his entire life.

Then the young girl wandered into his room one day.

She smelled sweeter than the rest, but her heart didn't beat nearly as fast as the others (Does she not know what I am? Does she not know I'm a monster?). The gown she wore marked her as a resident of the floor.

A mental patient.

She's sick also.

The first time he met her she simply looked dazedly around the room, met his gaze for a second, and then headed out the door once more. It was only after she was gone that he realized he had been holding his breath. She had smelled so sweet (almost like apples) that it had almost driven him to the brink of insanity. His stomach growled in protest for being denied its pleasure once more.

What was he to do though? He was chained to the bed and they refused to give him what he truly desired. He was their prisoner.

For now.

He was getting better.

The next time he saw her was a week later. Just like last time, she wandered dazedly into the room and looked about her. But this time, instead of leaving, she came and sat in the chair next to the bed (My god, she smells so good. Is this how the hunter feels when they're so close to their prey?). She began to kick her legs childishly (Well, she is a child) as she stared down at her lap.

"Mommy and daddy are going to pick me up soon," She said in a small voice laced with determination, "They told me I have to be a good girl and wait right here for them."

She's sick.

(Schizophrenia? Dementia? Something not even the doctors can figure out?)

"How long have you been waiting for them?" He asked. His voice was weary and thin from lack of use and it sounds odd in his ears. He had expected his voice to sound like a monster growl; something that could easily identify him as a freak (Wouldn't that just make life easier for everyone?). Instead, his voice sounded normal, slightly tired maybe, but definitely not the warning growl of a monster that was expecting.

"Five minutes," The girl answered slowly as she continued to kick her legs, "But it's okay. I know they love me; they'll come for me for sure."

He wasn't quite sure how to respond to that. His instincts were telling him to lunge at the girl; here was a perfect opportunity to claim the sweet succor that had eluded him for so long. But whatever remained of his common sense (Or, I suppose, whatever remained of my humanity) held him back.

Did he really want to just satisfy his desires? What if there was another use for this girl?

(What if we could be friends?)

Friend; it was a term that he had long ago forgotten about. Since he had been locked away, the concept of friendship had escaped him.

He wanted to fix that.

(Did I do it because I thought she would make the "illness" go away? Did I do it to lull her into a false sense of security? No…no that can't be right).

He turned once more to look for the girl, but in the time he had been musing, she had slipped silently out of the room. He was left alone once more, chained to his bed with a dark hunger gnawing at his stomach.

To his surprise, the girl came back the next day. The routine was exactly the same; she looked around dazedly, then came and sat in the chair next to his bed (The smell…oh God…the sweet smell). Once more she kicked her legs and refused to look up at him.

"Mommy and Daddy are going to pick me up soon," She said, just as she had the day before, "They told me I have to be a good girl and wait right here for them."

"…How long have you been waiting?" He responded, just as he had the other day.

"Ten minutes," The girl responded, the time increased from the other day, "But it's okay. I know they love me; they'll come for me for sure."

This time, he had enough foresight to try speaking to the girl. But no matter what questions he asked, no matter how he prodded her, she didn't lift her head, nor open her mouth to answer.

The fact that she refused to speak only stirred his desire more. She would be such easy prey (Like taking candy from a baby).

(No, no, that's not why I want to talk with her. No. No.)

He just wanted a friend; someone to talk to; someone who would be there and not look at him with those scared eyes. Someone that could know his dark secret and still accept him (Is it too much to ask?).

As he agonized once more, the girl left. She had stayed slightly longer this time and this time he watched as she walked out. Not once did she raise her head from the floor; not once did she raise her eyes to look at him. As she entered the doorway and headed down the hallway, causing him to lose sight of her, he glanced up at the clock.

She had stayed for exactly ten minutes.

The girl's coming and going became like clockwork. He would measure his day by her. Every day was the same.

"Mommy and Daddy are going to pick me up soon. They told me I have to be a good girl and wait right here for them."

"How long have you been waiting?"

Every time, the girl would add on five minutes. 15 minutes; 20 minutes; 25 minutes; every day it was five minutes more.

Then she would sit there and stare for however long she had stated. It didn't matter how he tried to strike up conversation; she never responded. The longer she sat there, the more desperately he wanted a response.

Without her moving or voicing an opinion, she looked just like a hunk of meat.

(No. No. I can't think like that. But the smell…why does it have to smell so damn good…why? WHY!)

After her allotted time was up, she would leave and he would be left alone to wrestle his desires under control.

He wasn't sure how long the ritual carried on (Was it days? Weeks? Months?) but one day, something changed.

She came in like normal and took her seat once more. He waited for her to start with her ritualistic greeting, but instead she remained silent. His mind flew into a panic. (Did she find out my secret? Does she never want to talk to me again? I, I tried to stop it! I, I tried to make a friend! But…but…)

"I've been waiting for Mommy and Daddy a long time," Her small voice came suddenly, breaking into his mounting panic, "It's been a full 2 hours now."

He reflected back on what she said yesterday. Yesterday she had said she'd been waiting for an hour and fifty minutes; that would make today two hours.

"I've been a good girl these past few hours. I've been a really good girl."

"Of course you have," He responded in the kindest voice he could manage, "You did just what your parents asked you to."

The girl fell silent once more as she continued to stare at her lap. He allowed his eyes to trace his figure and he realized for the first time that in her hands (They look so delicious…a wonderful appetizer…) she held a book. Had it been there the whole time? He wasn't sure.

"Why are you talking so funny Daddy? You came to pick me up just like you promised; it just took a little longer than usual."

(Daddy?)

For the first time she looked up at him and his stomach tied into a knot of disgust. Her young, brown eyes sparkled so brightly as she drew closer to his bed (Oh God, oh God! I can't…I can't stop it…the hunger…the hunger!). He wanted to tell her to run away; to escape him.

But the hunger wouldn't let him. He _wanted_ her there; he _needed _her there.

She clambered up on to his bed and sat cozily in his lap as she opened the book she held in her hands. It was all he could do to stop himself from vomiting (I can't…I can't control it…I need to eat…I need to eat…oh God.) With a girlish giggle that only made the black hunger within him grow in response, she laid her head back against his chest. The contact drove him crazy.

"As punishment, you have to read my favorite story to me a million times! Even if I fall asleep – which I won't! – you still have to keep going!"

(No! I'm not your father! Run away! I'm going to do horrible things! You're going to die! Can't you understand that! RUN AWAY!)

He wanted to scream it out loud; he wanted her to be safe. But the hunger silenced his words and he tried to raise a shaking hand to comfort the girl. He was met with the sound of shaking chains; he was still hand-cuffed to the bed.

"Come on Daddy!" The young girl called as she turned around to glare at him (Don't…don't look at me!), "You have to start reading right now."

"Of course I'll read to you," He heard his voice issue from a body that wasn't his (No! Don't listen to him! Run away! RUN AWAY!).

"Yay! Then let's start from the beginning!" She stated as she turned to look at the book once more.

(This is your chance to stop! Don't do it! Don't do it!)

The hunger silenced the voice. It would not heed the words of a weak individual that would not answer his dark desires.

His head sank slowly so it was situated right next to the young girl's face. He couldn't control it any longer; he had to feed the hunger; he had to feed the hunger now.

"'Once upon a time,'" He began slowly as he read the words on the page and breathed in her intoxicating scent, "'There lived a princess in a beautiful castle…'"

As his voice continued to intone the sweet, naïve words of the fairytale, he slowly twisted his hands inside the handcuffs that bound him. Without a sound, his hands slipped effortlessly out of his once prison. He had learned weeks ago that his hands had grown skinny enough to slip through the bondage that had confined him to this bed.

"'…She was very happy and had many friends…'" he continued reading the book as his shaking hands rose to encircle her neck, "'…But there was one thing she didn't have…'"

"'She didn't have a best friend,'" She said, taking over the story.

"Yes, she didn't have a best friend," He said as he started to apply pressure to her thin throat. It was slight at first, but as the girl made no attempt to struggle, he pushed harder and harder down on her neck, crushing the tiny windpipe that allowed the young girl to continue to live. The deed was over in a manner of seconds; she no longer drew breath. Instead she laid serenely across his chest. She looked just like a porcelain doll.

A sick smile worked its way on to his face as he began to laugh maniacally - the laughter made it seem less real to him; it was all just a farce - and claw at her. Utensils would have been so much quicker, so much easier, but he needed it now! With a satisfying burst of warm blood, he finally broke under her flesh. The smell of blood in the room made him almost pass out with giddy expectation.

It tasted so good! It tasted so good! Oh God, this was what he had been missing out on! This was glorious! This was paradise!

The pleasure of it all only drove him to indulge further. The sweet taste of her blood, the sweet taste of her muscles; it was like nothing he had ever dreamed. Her chest was open now, her rib-cage exposed to the cold, sterile, hospital air. Quickly grabbing the ribs, he broke them with a sickening crack like a gunshot that only made him smile in twisted glee.

Her heart laid out for him to enjoy. The strong, blood filled muscle that he had been craving this entire time. In anticipation, he licked the chunks of coagulated flesh, blood, and fat from under his fingernails; he would be treated to something much sweeter once he started in on the the organ that laid exposed before him. With child-like abandon, he began to rip at the heart, tearing it apart bit by bit. The blood; the muscle; it was like nothing he had ever eaten before. So sweet; so wonderful; so addictive.

The hot, red liquid streamed down his face as the blackness within him was finally filled.

It was cold. The liquid that fell down his face was different than the blood. The feeling of it stopped his feeding frenzy as he brought a tentative, bloody hand to his face.

They were tears. He was crying.

(What have I done! What have I done! Oh God; I killed her! I killed her! This…this blood…it's hers…I killed her…and I…I enjoyed it…oh God…oh God…)

The tears fell uncontrollably as his shoulders shook with grief. Clear water fell down his face, intermingling with the red that now stained his hands. No matter how many tears he cried, it would not make the red go away. But the tears did allow him to see what he had done.

The person - the thing - that laid on his lap was no longer recognizable as human. He had clawed at her flesh, leaving raw muscle and bones exposed for the world to see. Her face was scratched beyond recognition. He had torn her heart from her chest. What remained was little more than a bloody hunk of meat, completely indistinguishable from any other sort of animal.

He wanted to puke. His body wouldn't let him.

If he rid himself of everything he had just eaten, the gnawing blackness would return to haunt him again.

(No, no that's not it. I don't want to puke it up because it tastes good...it tastes so damn good. I'm a monster...a monster...a monster...a monster...)

"…A monster...A monster...A monster..."

He could hear the sound of hurried footsteps and shouts down the hallway leading to his room. The nurses were going to come to him and discover his crime.

Too little too late.

The mocking prognosis of the doctor returned to his broken mind once more.

He was getting better.

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><p><strong>AN:** Yes, I just wrote a story about cannibalism based off a pretty piano piece by Chopin. If you guys think this is too touchy of a subject, I'll take this chapter down. But for now, I hope you enjoyed.


	12. Yuuma x Miriam

**A/N:** ...Anyone still there after that last chapter? Anyways, after that very dark and depressing chapter, I thought I would write something a little bit happier. ...Honestly, I'm not sure if I succeeded. It's definitely mushier, that's for sure.

I have to give so many thanks to TheNextAlice, yiseunggi, and princedwardriferia for their reviews! I'm glad to see that you guys are still with me after that last chapter!

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><p>Song: Mr. Blue Sky - Electric Light Orchestra (Yup, ELO once more)<p>

Couple: VY2-YuumaxMiriam

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><p><strong>BLUE<strong>

I never understood why blue is considered such a sad color. Whenever I see blue, I'm always reminded of a clear, summer sky with puffy, playful clouds floating through the grand expanse. Or, I'm reminded of the crystal blue ocean, so deep and dark that it hides secrets that we lowly humans will never find.

…Or at least that's the way I see it…

He would probably scold me for being overly-romantic in that blunt manner of his. He's always like that; telling me I'm losing myself too much in my mind.

Actually, now that I think about it, when I was little, I promised myself I would someday fall in love and marry my blue-eyed prince. I would pace around the house, book in hand, look at all the pictures of the princesses living their gilded lives with their perfect blue-eyes princes, and I would dream of the day my personal prince would gallop in on his gallant white steed and sweep me off my feet. Looking back now, it was really just a silly childhood fantasy.

Childhood is such a naïve and wonderful time of our life. We honestly believe that if we wish hard enough, our perfectly planned fantasies will be delivered to us on a silver platter, complete with bow on top.

I'm happy that I was wrong; I'm happy I never found my blue-eyed prince.

I mean, the man I love has golden eyes. When I first met him, honestly, his eyes scared me; it felt like he was always watching me, always waiting for me to trip up and make a mistake; he was the calm cat contemplating the skittish mouse. I suppose the fact that we were both competing for one spot in an art exhibit probably increased the feeling of the prey-predator relationship.

I still can't even begin to understand the mysterious ways in which the world works. I lost the opportunity to display my work – I lost the opportunity to the applicant with the golden cat eyes – and I was completely crushed. But he came, shook my hand, complimented my work, and invited me out to coffee.

Ah, I also think that was when he told me his name. Yuuma; it sounded exotic and dangerous in my ears, like a pet from a far-flung land that I was foolishly pampering against my better judgment. I loved the pet even though I knew it would attack me at the first sign of weakness. I guess my evaluation of him as a cat had been slightly off; I thought he was more like a large, bristling tiger.

At first I just _knew_ he was just making fun of me, but I was too prodded by good social graces to turn his offer down. I spent the entire evening brooding about the imminent encounter and trying to think of clever ways to deflect the conversation away from the outstanding accomplishment he had just achieved. I wasn't sure how much he was going to brag, but I knew if he did it in excess, I would quickly drop into the sinkhole of depression.

Haha, he would have scolded me for that too.

The next day when I met him, I was pleasantly surprised. The entire time he didn't bring up the reality that he had won and I had lost; in fact we spent the entire day talking about everything _but_ the competition we had just engaged in.

As we talked and the hours ticked by, his eyes became less frightening, but there was still an immovable wall there; something that he had erected so long ago I wasn't sure he was even conscious of its existence.

I felt myself becoming oddly obsessed with the wall. Why was it there? How long ago had it been built? Whom was he protecting behind those invisible yet very much solid walls? Before I was even consciously aware of it, I knew I would keep seeing him in order to deconstruct that wall, even if I had to take it apart brick-by-brick using nothing but my hands as tools.

In that first intimate encounter – looking back at the relationship now, I suppose it would be called our first date – not once did he smile. Sure, his eyes softened mildly, but there was still something terrifying, something hidden and dark, in those golden eyes. He was no blue-eyed perfect prince, that was for sure.

I've come to love his eyes. When he gives one of those rare smile of his, when the wall comes tumbling down like a poorly constructed house of cards, his eyes glitter like little flecks of gold hidden in the darkest mine. He would probably glare at me for that thought if he could read my mind. I suppose it's a good thing he can't.

Oh…I guess it's time to switch over to another color…got to make sure I get it just right…

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><p><strong>PINK<strong>

I've always hated this color. Having been born with naturally pink hair, I suppose it's to be expected. I can't count the number of times I was teased as a child for it. I always wanted to dye it or cut if off. A shaved head would be better than pink hair.

Of course she goes on and on about how she loves it; how it's unique. I remember her comparing it to a soft, blushing rose just coming into its colors…or something equally overly flowery and poetic. She always makes a point of ruffling my hair whenever we watch a movie together. I'm pretty sure she does it unconsciously, but it's what has prevented me from just shaving my head these past three years.

I think our first argument started with the color pink actually…yeah, that's right, she was painting something and she told me how she was trying to get the perfect shade of pink. I told her it didn't have to be perfect; as long as it was close she would be fine.

That's one of her problems when she paints. She spends too much time preparing and making the paint, planning out the picture, and staring at the blank canvas trying to imagine the picture. By the time she finally puts the paintbrush on the canvas, she already hates everything about it because it's not going according to plan.

I guess it's kind of ironic that she's so poetic and free-spirited in everything else she does. When it comes to painting, she's all business. I tend to be the exact opposite, which I'm pretty sure annoys her in some way.

When I told her not to worry about making the pink perfect, I meant it as a way to calm her down; a way to let her know that it didn't have to be perfect. Of course, she took it the wrong way. She started talking about how I was only able to say that because I was a genius – because every piece of art I touched was a masterpiece.

Looking back, I was most surprised by the bitter tone in her voice. I had been dating her for about five months at that point and I don't think I ever heard her raise her voice, let alone use such a bitter and biting tone. I had no idea she had such resentment and jealousy towards me.

I told her that she was overreacting; she was just as good as I was. Apparently that was the wrong answer because she spun around sharply, tears streaming down her face, and she went on a sobbing rant about how I'm always the one that gets work, how I'm always the one that has their work exhibited in galleries. I wanted to argue with her. Unfortunately I wasn't able to. It was true; I was always the one selected to be in the art galleries. I wasn't going to lie to her. But that didn't mean I wasn't unwilling to try and defuse the situation.

Miriam.

I remember saying her name quietly and pulling her into an awkward hug. I'm the first to admit that I'm not overly fond of physical contact, but I just wanted to take her into my arms and protect her. I remember her small frame shaking – was it in rage or sadness? I'm still not quite sure –, the fact that she smelled like oil paints, and the feeling of her long, silver hair beneath my fingers.

The contact didn't last long. She broke out of the embrace and quickly darted across the room. She looked like a caged animal. It was at this point she started swearing and screaming. I honestly don't remember what she was screaming about, but I do remember the look of pure jealousy and anger that was in her eyes.

After she had spent all her energy on yelling, she left the studio without a word.

I remember being frightened. I didn't want to lose her. I wanted to run after her and pull her into a hug once more. Logic quickly informed me that doing that would only make matters worse; I would have to wait for her to calm down before I tried talking to her again.

When I turned to look at the picture she had been painting, it only made my mood worse. Of course it was me she was painting; of course it was the color of my hair she was trying to get right.

I've always hated the color pink.

The two of us didn't talk for three days after that event. I wanted to give her the space she needed. If she needed her space forever, I guess I would just have to deal with that…

Although, in the end she-

…Guess I'm done with pink for now.

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><p><strong>WHITE<strong>

White…hm…this one's a little bit different than blue. It reminds me of winter and summer all rolled into one. It's soft, lazy floating clouds; it's gently drifting flakes of frozen tears. It's both warm and cold; it holds endless possibilities; it can be mixed with any color and take on any identity.

But then again, it really has no identity of its own. It's merely the absence of any other identity.

Once more, he would scold me for personifying something inane like a color. It seems like he's always scolding me; sometimes he honestly feels more like an overbearing shrew of a mother than a boyfriend. On the rare occasion when I'm feeling bold, I always get this burning impulse to do something completely irresponsible just to see how he would react. I would probably get the scolding of a life-time.

I've never acted on any of those impulses…I guess I'll just have to see what the future holds.

I remember the first winter we spent together. There was an unusually high amount of snowfall that year. The snow spirits must have been restless – when I told him that, he rolled his eyes, but quickly amended the action by giving me a soft kiss on the top of my head.

We were walking home at the time…I don't really remember from where…and I got this completely sudden, completely childish impulse. I detangled my hand from his, turned to a nearby snow bank, hastily made a snowball and quickly chucked it at my target. It hit him square in the chest.

The expression on his face, it was so adorable. It was the perfect combination of complete shock, mild rage, and a glint of mischievousness. I was laughing so hard that I had no time to react before he retaliated with a snowball of his own. After the initial return fire, it broke down into no-hold warfare.

The rest of the time in our snow-fueled fight was a blur of flying snow, ringing laughter, and cheeks rosy from the biting cold. By the time the two of us reached a truce I collapsed into the soft, pearly snow in a fit of laughter. A few seconds later, I heard the distinct sound of him taking his place next to me. I couldn't stop giggling like a school girl and even he, my stoic, golden-eyed prince, couldn't help but join in.

Thinking back on it now, that was probably the first time I ever heard him laugh. I like the sound of his laughter; it reminds me of a one of his paintings. You may have to work hard to achieve it or understand it, but the result is completely worth it. It's free-spirited and it prompts you to look beneath the surface to see what's underneath.

I just can't help but keep thinking things that he would scold me for, huh?

When the two of us finally regained control of ourselves, he took my hand in his, dragged me back on the sidewalk, and we continued onward as if the exchange had never happened. My hand was numb with cold, but his large, strong hand wrapped around mine filled my chest with warmth I didn't know was possible.

As he kissed me good-bye, he tasted like snow, laughter, and childhood dreams.

Snow is white and white is the absence of existence. Isn't it funny how something that technically doesn't exist could mean so much to me?

I guess to me, instead of being nothing, white just represents possibilities. Like looking up at the clouds – we did that together earlier today; or more like I coerced him into doing it with puppy-dog eyes. I dragged him to the field behind the art studio and the two of us simply held hands and watched as the clouds roiled by.

I don't remember who started it first – probably me; I can't imagine him doing anything so childish – but we began listing what the clouds looked like. One moment it was a tender rose, the next a vicious animal pinned helplessly to the heavens. His responses were far less poetic; a cat, a house, a paint brush.

Eventually, I got mildly frustrated with his blunt answers, and I told him to imagine that the sky was a canvas and he was trying to describe his work. My plan was foiled when he immediately began talking about all the technical aspects of the work. His responses, although plausible and very much in character for him, managed to tickle my annoyance.

I'm pretty sure that's why we're engaging in this exercise. I want to see how he truly saw the sky, and I knew the only way I can get the answer out of him is to ask him to paint it. The temptation to steal a glance at what he's painted is strongly alluring, but I have to concentrate on my own work. After all, that was part of the deal.

So just another brush stroke there…was that cloud more like a majestic lion or a calculating leopard? Drat…I can't remember…guess I'll just have to fill in the truth with a fantasy…

And one more…

Ah!

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><p><strong>BLACK<strong>

I realize I'm the one picking colors for this thing, but I'm not quite sure why I settled on black. I guess it's just me letting my artistic side take over. When I paint is pretty much the only time I ever really allow myself to be spontaneous.

…Painting these black clouds reminds me of when we broke up…

I have no idea why I'm dredging up this memory – it feels like no matter what I do it's going to make itself known. The one thing I'm sure of is what I did was idiotic and I'm really lucky she forgave me.

I was supposed to attend some formal party to celebrate the success of having several of my art pieces sold. I tried to convince her to come along, but she told me immediately that she had no intention of going. Interestingly, she also said that I shouldn't go. Of course I asked her why, but she was nothing but cryptic in her response.

Even though I asked her several times, she never gave me a straight answer. At one point, she told me that it was critically important that I not attend the party and I would understand if I just gave her a few seconds. For a reason I'm not really too sure of any more, that set me off; I began accusing her of trying to keep me from succeeding in my business; I told her that she was just upset that she wasn't succeeding like I was and she was trying to drag me down to her level.

Before I could even see her response, I stormed out of our shared apartment and to my car. As I drove towards the party, I realized what an idiot I was, but I couldn't bring myself to turn the car around. Maybe it was stupid, stupid, pride that made me continue on my way. Whatever it was, I arrived at the party in a foul mood.

When I entered into the hall where they were holding my banquet, I was almost immediately swarmed by men in black suits and women in colorful dresses. They were all saying the same thing to me:

Happy Birthday.

That was when I realized what I had just done. It was April 25th; it was my birthday. The two of us had promised months ago to share my birthday together. Not only had I blown her off, I had accused her of some very serious things.

I left the party right away and drove back to our apartment, but I could tell she wasn't there. The lights were off and the house was pitch black.

I wasn't willing to leave it at that; I had to check, just to be sure.

When I entered the apartment, everything seemed to be undisturbed. I clicked on the lights and began to look around. It was only when I entered the kitchen that the full stupidity of my actions settled on me.

Sitting on the table was a large cake. I could tell it was home-made by the less-than professional looking flowers that decorated the cake. It was one of her favorite hobbies to engage in when she wasn't busy painting or day dreaming.

Next to the cake sat a note, written hastily in her big, looping handwriting.

_I've gone to spend a few days with a friend._

Nothing more. A simple explanation of where she had gone; no anger, no sadness, no accusations. The uncertainty scared me more than her hatred; if I knew she hated me and wanted nothing to do with me, at least I would be able to attempt to move on with my life. But this note, written completely indifferently - written as if I was a stranger - caused me a panicky feeling that I had never felt before.

I remember feeling suddenly drained of energy. I collapsed into my chair and stared at the cake she had made for me. I was still dressed up in a tuxedo from the party, but I had no strength to move let alone change clothes. I stuck out a finger and tried just a bit of the frosting from the cake she had made for me.

It tasted terrible. She had mixed up the sugar and the salt. Again.

I don't know why, but it was only after that discovery that I started crying.

Black huh…yeah, I came back and the house was pitch black…

Why am I using this color again?

I guess it doesn't matter. This was her idea after all. Maybe I'm thinking back on all the bad times because of all the planning I've been doing? I suppose it's possible…

I wonder wha-

…Well I guess that's the end of that.

* * *

><p><strong>BLUE, PINK, WHITE, BLACK<strong>

As their two paintbrushes met in the middle of the canvas, the two artists stepped back from their complete work as they both evaluated what the other had drawn. In front of them stood a singular canvas. One half of the canvas was filled with a blue sky filled with puffy white clouds. The other half was filled with a sky at sunset filled with dark clouds threatening to rain at any time.

"…You were supposed to paint the sky as you see it," The girl spoke up first, addressing the young man standing directly next to her, "The sky is crystal blue right now; it's not pink at all. Plus, there's not really any dark clouds threatening rain."

"This is how I see that sky," He responded bluntly.

"I'll never understand your painting process," The girl said with a bemused shake of her head as she slipped her hand into his, "But…I liked this experiment. The whole time I was painting, I was thinking about our relationship."

"Yeah, I was too."

"Is that so? It doesn't really sound like you to be super reflective like that; I always kind of expected you to empty your mind of all frivolities while you painted and let your inner spirit guide you."

"That's because you like to believe overly romantic things," He responded as he rolled his eyes at her.

"Maybe. You would have rolled your eyes at me a lot if you could have read my mind as I painted."

"Probably. What were you thinking about?"

"All the good times in the relationship."

"I was thinking the exact opposite."

"…All the bad stuff? Why would you want to think about that?"

"Because it made me realize something."

"And what's that?"

"Miriam, I love you. Will you marry me?"

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **See? Fluffy and sappy...


	13. Oliver x CUL

**A/N: **By the end of this chapter, you're all most likely going to be displeased with me. But anyways, I was glad to hear that you guys were alright with the mushy chapter. I've written mildly mushy stuff before, but never excessively mushy, so I was glad to hear you liked it. Expect a few more obnoxiously mushy chapters in the future! But don't worry; it will be balanced out with darker and far less mushy chapters in between.

Many, many thanks to FireRuby14, yiseunggi, I My Me Mine, Miri-chan, TheNextAlice, and princedwardriviera for their reviews. I love that a lot of you guys are repeat readers/reviewers; it means a lot when you review once, but when you review more than once, it means the world to me!

* * *

><p>Song: Dreams of the Black Cat - Ken Nakagawa<p>

Couple: OliverxCul

* * *

><p>"Y-You're not going in there…are you?"<p>

"Of course I am! There's no reason for you to be such a big scaredy-cat."

"But you know it's haunted! Our parents have been telling us that for years!"

"You _still _believe in ghosts? Come on! This is the era of growing science and technology – I mean we have fully steam-powered air ships! If ghosts were real, scientists would have found out about them already!"

"You're only saying that because you're dad's a scientist…"

"Shut up! Fine, if you're too scared to go, I'll just go by myself! Give me that lantern!"

"Ah! W-Wait Cul! You're dad's gonna be so angry when he find out you went into clock tower four!"

"Psh, we can go into all the other clock towers, I don't understand why the fourth one should be so different. If dad asks just tell him I went to one of the other towers. See ya later!"

"Cul!"

But the child's plea fell on silent ears as the girl named Cul yanked the tin lantern from his grubby, sweaty hands. With loud, clipped steps that served the purpose of both drowning out the sound of the young boy calling after her and bolstering her courage, she approached the clock tower that loomed large and threateningly above her.

She knew what she was doing was strictly forbidden; every adult in her life had told her about the dangers of approaching clock tower number four. Dark secrets were hidden away there. Scientific marvels that should have never been pursued were locked away to never be opened again.

That only made the allure of the tower all that more attractive to the young girl. She had watched her father work on his steam powered inventions her whole life. She couldn't claim that she understood everything, or anything beyond the basics for that matter, but that didn't stop her from loving it. The combination of grease, steam, and metal was like a siren call to her.

As she drew closer to the boarded up tower, she couldn't help but feel her heart rate spike in excitement. Not only was there the distinct possibility of discovering "dark secrets", she was also doing something decidedly against the rules. A smile snaked its way on to her face as she adjusted her lantern to see the boarded over door of the tower.

She gave a few exploratory knocks on the rotting wood and gave a self-satisfied smile. She set the lantern on the floor and began to tug viciously on one of the loose, grimy boards, causing her young muscles to strain against the sudden exertion thrust upon them.

With a satisfying pop noise, the board came loose, causing Cul to crash into the ground with a large thud. She cursed to herself as she rubbed at her now sore bottom before she threw aside the board she had just removed. Picking up the lantern once more, she tentatively looked into the opening she had managed to create, but she could only see the elusive shimmer of a curtain of cobwebs.

The young girl gave an involuntary shudder. More than anything in the world, she _hated _spiders. Well…maybe that wasn't entirely true; she hated chickening out more than spiders.

Taking one last, sweet breath of un-spider infested air and closing her eyes tightly, she shoved her lantern in front of her and dove into the hole. The spider webs clung to her skin and hair as she felt her body give an involuntary shudder of disgust. She walked swiftly forward into the clock tower for several more second before she stopped and opened her eyes.

The room wasn't anything spectacular. The tower stretched high above her and an unstable looking metal staircase wove around the perimeter allowing for individuals to reach higher floors. The room was scattered with beakers, papers, long desks and mechanical parts that Cul couldn't even begin to fathom the names for. It was an area that had obviously been used for research.

"Maybe I could find some stuff about why they shut down the tower?" Cul commented, speaking aloud in an attempt to dissipate the almost suffocating feeling of silence in the tower, "Yeah, that's exactly what I'll do! I could be like one of those great thieves that steal the truth!"

Her course of action decided and her excitement growing, the young girl stepped further into the tower and began to pick papers off the floor. Some of them crumbled at her touch, causing her to click her tongue in annoyance. The papers that didn't crumble away were filled with scrawled notes in short, crammed handwriting, supplemented with diagrams to help better explain the ideas presented.

Not gaining any more knowledge from the nearly illegible words and the just as confusing diagrams, Cul threw them down in anger, causing them to scatter unceremoniously onto the floor.

"This is just stupid; they look just like the same super-confusing notes my dad makes!" She fumed as she looked down at the paper carnage she had just produced, "What the heck were they working on here and why aren't we allowed to go inside?"

Receiving no answer to her question and far from simply giving up, Cul held her lantern high above her head and cast her gaze to the spiraling, perilous staircase that wound its way to the ceiling of the tall tower.

"Of course!" She exclaimed as she headed for the landing that would lead her to the rest of the tower, "They wouldn't put their important secrets at the bottom of the tower! They've just gotta be hidden somewhere on one of the very, very top floors."

Excitement rushing through her system, she began to bound up the stairs two at a time. She made it about half-way up the first flight of stairs before she felt a tugging sensation on her toe. She didn't even have time to place out her hands to catch herself before the world came rushing to meet her. Her head jarred painfully as she banged her chin on the cold metal beneath her.

Through a haze of pain, Cul was aware of a sickening crack. At first, she thought she had shattered a bone and she would slowly rot in the tower, unable to move or call for help. But as the initial fear washed away and she realized her leg wasn't burning in pain, she became aware of the fact that she was now sitting in complete darkness. With a debilitating feeling of dread, she noticed for the first time that her fall had shattered the lantern.

She should have gone back; it would have made all the sense in the world. But all she could imagine was the story of how "Crybaby Cul" had entered into clock tower four with dreams of grandeur and had emerged with only a banged-up chin to show for her efforts. Indignant rage burning inside her, she quickly silenced the voice of reason that told her to leave, hauled herself off the ground, and continued her ascent.

Her movements were much more careful this time, partially due to the sudden darkness that surrounded her and partially due to the pain that coursed through her every time her movements jostled her chin.

She managed to climb about three more steps before something skittered at her feet.

Cul stopped in her tracks as her mind quickly conjured the worst scenario possible; it was a spider; it was some big, steam powered spider that some clearly insane scientist had created to eat small children. After all, all scary scientists hated children, right?

As she continued to stand on the landing, too petrified to move forward and to prideful to run away, she could hear the telltale click of gears locking into place. A few second later, just as she expected, she heard the sound of steam as the engine of whatever creature stood in front of her finally began to operate.

"Please oh please oh please don't let it eat me God," she forced her petrified lips to annunciate, "If you don't let the spider eat me, I _promise_ I'll tell mom that I was the one that ate the last slick of cake and not Miki."

Hoping that her prayer was good enough and hearing the high-pitched whine that indicated the steam powered machine was about to take an action, she closed her eyes and waited for the worst. She expected to feel the disgusting feeling of eight tiny little claws dig into her skin and begin to wrap her in a cocoon to save as a snack for later.

CHIRP

_Was that…a bird?_

CHIRP

The sound came once more, indicating that Cul wasn't losing her mind. However, something was off about the chirp…it sounded slightly…tinny? No, that wasn't right….

Curiosity overpowered her fear of imminent death from spider-related matters as she slowly allowed her eyes to open. By this point, he eyes had adjusted to the dark enough that she could see vague outlines of objects in the tower; she wasn't sure if that was a good or bad thing. Sure, it made things easier to see, but every shadowy figure looked like it would jump out and attack her.

Well, every figure except for one.

When she looked in the direction the chirping sound had come from, she found a vague, yellow outline resting at her feet. Curiosity being her downfall once again, she bent down to get a closer look at the object.

It took her all of two seconds to realize that she was looking at a steam-powered bird. The small creature had its wings folded at its sides and a yellow paint job that was chipped and falling away in flakes. She felt her breath escape her in a disappointed rush; practically everyone in the world had a steam-powered bird. They were so common they probably outnumbered the number of living bids.

"Stupid bird, scaring me like that," She said sourly as she stood up and gave a light kick to the fragile device. The bird only responded with another light, slightly off, chirp.

"You stay there like a good stupid bird. I'm gonna climb up higher," She commented to the bird. She had no idea why she was talking to it; maybe the big secret of clock tower four was that it made you go crazy.

She managed to climb another three steps before she heard the sound of the bird chirping once more.

Oddly, the sound issued from right in front of her rather than behind her.

When she looked down, the bird was sitting in front of her once more.

"Alright," She said with mild annoyance coloring her tone as she picked up the bird, "Where's your turnkey? I'm gonna shut you off so you can't follow me…"

She turned the small device in her hand and looked for the place where the turnkey should have been – on top of the left wing – but she found nothing. Puzzled, she turned the device over in her hands and began to search it thoroughly. The bird should have had a turnkey; it was a rule in case the machines ever got out of control and needed to be shut down.

But this small bird seemed to be without a turnkey.

"What's your problem? You're such a weirdo," She commented as she turned the bird so its beady eyes were looking at her. The bird chirped back once more.

"What? Is chirping the only thing you can do?"

As if in response to her question, the bird suddenly opened its wings. Cul watched in fascination as each jointed wing unfurled and locked into place until the small, yellow bird had expanded its wings out to their full span. She was transfixed; steam birds shouldn't be able to fly – they were made to be pretty little singing devices for people to coo at.

Defying her beliefs, the small bird lifted from her palm and took gracefully to the air. As it glided on winds only it could feel, Cul traced its pattern with her eyes. The bird moved gracefully, far more gracefully than any of the other multitude of flying machines Cul had ever seen in her life.

Before she realized it, the bright speck of yellow that was the bird had disappeared into the darkness of the clock tower.

"Hey wait up!" She called as she began to run in the direction the bird had disappeared. Her chin throbbed with each step, but she pushed it aside and kept propelling herself forward into the unknown. Perhaps it was her curiosity once more; perhaps it was fear of being left alone; perhaps it was "destiny". Whatever the case, she ignored the pain and chased blindly after the tiny ball of hope that flew in front of her.

As she climbed, the darkness around her began to dissipate slowly. As the darkness disappeared so too did her fear, causing her to quicken her footsteps in order to catch up with the mechanical bird. She was just within arms-reach when the bird suddenly stopped its flight and landed gracefully on the ground.

Cul managed to stop herself before she collided with the bird and for the first time, she looked around the room she had arrived in.

This room was vastly different than the room below. This room looked to be an attic of sorts and the large windows that surrounded the perimeter of the room allowed the light of sunset to stream through the window. She stepped towards the window and saw the sprawling city-scape beneath her. The buildings stretched high into the sky and were obstructed by the layer of steam that was ever hovering just above the heads of the citizens who prospered from the multitude of steam-powered inventions.

Towering above it all, she saw the other five clock towers that stood like sentinels for the city. She had never noticed just how tall the towers were, but standing in one of the towers herself, she realized just how enormous they were.

"It's really beautiful up here..." Cul mumbled to herself as she continued to stare out the window at the winding and narrow cobblestone streets that stretched out endlessly before her. After a few more seconds of gawking at the sight of the city in sunset, she turned once more to look at the room she was standing in.

Instead of finding scientific documents and instruments strewn everywhere like she expected, the room was littered with toys. She walked around the perimeter of the room and picked up a wooden block that proudly displayed the letter "A" on one of its sides and turned it in her hand. It didn't work any marvel of science; it was simply a wooden block – a toy for a child.

CHIRP

Cul nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard the sound of the mechanical bird chirping to herself; she had completely forgotten about the mysterious machine that had brought her here. She turned around, fully intending to scold the stupid thing for scaring her, but she felt her words freeze on her lips.

Right behind where the bird rested on the ground, there was a boy cowering in the corner. He was wearing a white, button-up shirt, black shorts that stopped just above his knees, and a large, blue coat that looked to be about three sizes too big for him.

But that wasn't his most striking feature.

Cul had to fight back the urge to gag.

Where his right eye should have been, there was nothing but an empty, dry socket.

She quickly looked away from his empty socket and instead concentrated on the eye that was still there; for reasons she couldn't explain, not only did the empty eye make her want to puke, it terrified her. As his golden eye met her own, she could clearly read his thoughts.

He was positively terrified.

"…What are you doing here?" She asked as she regained her voice and took a threatening step forward, trying her best to keep the quiver of fear out of her voice. Instead of responding, the young boy recoiled against the wall he was currently sitting against. Cul felt a frown trace its way on to her face.

"I'm not going to hurt you. Stop being such a baby!" She replied as she took another step towards the boy. In response, he tried to back up, but there was nowhere for him to go; his back was against the wall and Cul blocked any hope of escape he might have. Cul watched him glance over his shoulder to confirm what he already knew to be true; there was no escape.

Instead of giving up as she expected him to, he quickly turned towards the wall and began to frantically claw at the wood, seeking to create an escape route by any means possible.

For a moment, all Cul could do was watch in horrified fascination as the boy splinter the wood away bit by bit as he searched for escape. The crazed and desperate sound of his scratching nails filled the clock tower with the frightening sounds of self-mutilation. Suddenly, she heard the sound of quite whimpering.

It was the boy; he was physically tearing apart his fingers in an attempt to escape.

That was enough to snap Cul out of her stupor and into action.

"What are you doing!" She practically screamed as she lunged forward and grabbed the young boy's wrists, forcibly pulling his fingers back from the wood. She immediately set about examining his fingertips and scolding him harshly for his stupidity.

"Why would you do that! Look what you did to your fingers!"

To demonstrate her point, she forced his hand into his own face. But instead of examining the bloodied, splintered fingertips like she wanted him to, he was instead staring at her face. His good eye didn't blink as he stood frozen in terror.

"Fine, don't look at your fingers!" Cul said in frustration as she lowered his hand once more, "But we can't just leave them like this; we'll have to wrap them up somehow…oh, I know!"

Releasing the young boy's hand, she began to tear off strips of the long, white dress she was wearing. In a matter of seconds, she had a fistful of makeshift sterile dressing and a significantly shorter dress.

"Here," She said as she once more snatched up the boy's hand and began to wrap his fingertips with the linen. The entire time she worked, the boy didn't make a sound, not even a whimper of pain or discomfort.

Cul's mind was racing a mile-a-minute. Who was this boy? Why was he in the clock tower? Why was he so afraid of her? Why had the adults told her to avoid coming to this tower? The fact that there were so many questions buzzing in her skull that had no answer only stood to annoy Cul.

As she moved on to bandaging the boy's other hand, she couldn't help but glance up at his face. He was still looking at her terrified and she would have sworn that he hadn't blinked once in the past two minutes. As she continued to examine him, her eyes inadvertently drifted to look at his empty socket and she couldn't help but shudder in disgust.

"Well now I finished your hands," Cul said as she gave one final tug on the wrappings on his left hand, "But…I do still have some wrappings left…hold on a minute."

Without waiting for his approval, Cul approached the boy and began to cover his empty eye-socket with the wrappings. The boy went completely ridged and Cul was sure he would have bolted from the room if he wasn't currently unable to move due to the petrifying effects of fear.

"Aaaand…done!" Cul said as she stepped back and appreciated her handiwork. It wasn't a perfect job, but she no longer had to look at the boy's empty eye socket. For his part, the boy didn't react in the slightest to Cul's declaration of completeness.

"So now that you're all fixed up, tell me what you're doing in this tower!" Cul asked in a rush as her curiosity returned in spades.

She was met with silence.

"Have you been living here all by yourself for all these years?" Cul questioned, her short patience already beginning to wear thin.

Silence once more.

"I just bandaged both your hands and eyes!" She said with a huff as she crossed her arms across her small chest, "I _command_ you to tell me why you're in this tower!"

Without a word, the young boy's hands began to move. At first, Cul thought he was going to try clawing at the wood again, but instead his hands moved to the first button on his shirt. She watched in fascination as he unbuttoned three more buttons before he stopped. This time, his hands moved to point the middle of his chest.

Cul felt her breath escape in a rush of surprise.

Where fleshed should have existed, there was instead a pane of clear, perfectly polished glass. Where ribs should have existed, there were instead copper wires that looked like the wires of a birdcage. Where a heart should have been, there was nothing but gears and valves.

"…Are you a steam-powered doll?" She asked in wonder as she continued to look at the man-made heart, "But…but when you clawed at the boards before, you were bleeding! I saw it!"

Silence.

Her mind instantly thought of everything she had ever been told about clock tower four; it was a place forbidden due to scientific atrocities that should never be replicated. Cul couldn't help but look at the young boy's face. Although he had listened to her command, his face still shone with petrified terror. He looked so much like a normal boy... She had been prepared for horrible monsters; for spiders that would eat her in one bite. He was just a boy...

But his steam-powered heart...

"...Are you the secret that's been locked away in this tower? Are you the 'scientific mistake' that should never be repeated?"

Silence.

"…Just what are you…?"

Silence.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **...and you guys (most likely) will never get the answer to that question. Of course, if you want to speculate or even continue this story on your own, I encourage you fully! But I do want to remind you guys that this collection is really just a chance for me to work on my writing and different aspects of writing; in this case, I wanted to try establishing an AU in only one chapter, and that's why I probably won't personally continue this story. I feel like it would kind of spoil the point for me...please forgive me if you wanted more.


	14. Dell x Lily

**A/N: **Yes, I already wrote for both Lily and Dell, but I was struck with an idea for this song and I just had to write it. Plus, there's not _really_ a rule that says I have to cycle through all the Vocaloids before I repeat a character...not that I would be able to anyways considering how many more girls there are than guys.

I want to thank princeedwardriveria, TheNextAlice, FireRuby14, and I My Me Mine (even though she didn't leave a formal review, she sent me a positively lovely PM) for their reviews! Last chapter in particular, you guys left wonderful reviews...not that you don't always, but last chapter every review just felt really meaningful and encouraging. Thank you very much everyone!

* * *

><p>Song: Eine Kaiserin muss gläzen - Elisabeth Soundtrack<p>

Couple: DellxLily

* * *

><p>"Y-You're really leaving?"<p>

"Oh come on! Stop being such a crybaby! Sure I'm leaving, but we can still talk to each other through letters or on the phone."

"Yeah, but it won't be the same as you being here…who's gonna help me and Haku build the best forts in the neighborhood?"

"Don't worry; you're a smart cookie, I'm sure you'll figure it out."

"But…but I'm gonna m-m-miss you!"

"Ah! Hey! Are you crying? Oh come on! You're a boy! I'm supposed to be the one crying and you're supposed to be all manly and comfort me."

"I don't wanna be manly! I want you to stay here!"

"Alright, alright, stop blubbering on my clothes! How about we make a promise? Every year we'll meet back here, in this very secret fort, and spend a whole day just playing. We'll have so much fun, it'll make up for all the time I was gone."

"D-Do you promise?"

"Of course! Here, we'll do a spit-handshake to seal the deal."

"Ew! You know I can't stand those."

"Come _on_! You're all of six years old now! You've got to start acting like a boy instead of a wimpy girl!"

"I'm not a wimpy girl!"

"Then you should have no problem with a spit-handshake!"

"O-okay…"

"Alright, then with this handshake, I, Lily, promise that every year on this day, I will come back to this secret fort and spend the day with my best friend Dell. Now it's your turn."

"I can't concentrate with your disgusting spit on my palm…"

"Just say it!"

"Fine…. With this handshake, I, Dell, promise that every year on this day, I will come back to this secret fort and spend the day with my best friend Lily."

"Then it's settled! Now no more blubbering!"

"I…I wasn't crying that much!"

* * *

><p>It really started as an escape mechanism for her mother. Instead of having to worry about caring for a child while trying to work from home, she could drop her off with the theater company and have a few hours to herself.<p>

But for her, it was something more.

The first time she stepped onto a stage, she knew it was what she wanted to do with her life. The feeling of the hot stage lights, the ability to slip into someone else's clothing – someone else's life – for a few hours, the feeling of being free to be…not her.

It was intoxicating.

Of course, when she was a child, she didn't have words to name her emotions towards theater. She only knew that when she acted, when she stepped onto the stage, her small heart beat with excitement and she wanted to shout and run with joy.

Yes, this was what she wanted to do with her life.

Nothing was going to stop her from achieving her dream.

* * *

><p>"…You're gonna be an actress?"<p>

"Yup! My mommy had me audition for this musical the other day and I got a role and it's just so awesome! Everyone's super nice and they all can sing really, really good!"

"Wow, you've only been gone for a year and you already know what you want to be when you grow-up."

"Well, I _am_ eight years old now; I've gotta set a good example for you so when you're my age you'll be able to decide what you want to do with your future."

"I already know what I want to be!"

"That can't be true! You're not allowed to know yet! You gotta wait until you're my age!"

"Nope, I know right now!"

"And what do you want to be?"

"I'm gonna make video games! It'll be so cool! One day you'll be playing a game and I'll come over to your house and I'll be able to tell you about all the super-secret cool places that you can explore that no one in the whole wide world knows about!"

"Well that's great and all, but I don't play video games. You know I suck at them!"

"Lily! What kind of language are you using!"

"Isn't it awesome! Some of the older kids at the theater have been teaching me bad words like shit, damn, suck, bitc-"

"Lalalalalalala! I don't want to hear it!"

"Oh quit you whining! You're such a mama's boy!"

"I-I am not!"

"Then I dare you to say a bad word!"

"No! I don't wanna!"

"Why not? 'Cause you're a fraidy-cat?"

"No, because you won't play my video game when I make it!"

"Oh yeah! Well I bet you won't come to one of my performances when I get the super important lead role!"

"Not if you won't play my video game I won't!"

"Fine then! Let's make a promise. When I get the lead role, you have to come to my show and buy me a whole bunch of flowers. When you make your video game, I have to sit down and play it with you for a whole three hours."

"I don't know if that's fair…"

"Fine, I'll also buy you a pack of your favorite soda! Is that good enough for you!"

"Yup! You've got yourself a deal."

* * *

><p>When she was a child, it didn't matter.<p>

Sure, there were certain roles she couldn't get, but that was really only a matter of age. She was a child, so of course she wouldn't be selected to play the role of an adult.

When she got older, it became a different matter altogether.

Then it was all a matter of how you looked; the other girls had talent, but it was always the pretty, skinny, blonde ones that got the lead roles. No one paid attention to the homely looking girl with the short, brown hair.

At first she couldn't understand it; she was every bit as good as them, if not better; why wasn't she being recognized?

Then she looked in the mirror one day and realized what was wrong.

She was fat.

She could try to doctor the truth – she was pudgy, she was slightly over-weight, she was big boned– but in her mind all the pretty, sugary words lead her to one conclusion.

She was fat.

She wasn't getting noticed because she wore size sixteen jeans rather than size four.

It didn't matter how good she became at singing, it didn't matter how good she became at acting; she was fat and she would never get the lead role.

That night, she stared at the mirror for an untold number of hours. She kept poking and prodding herself in a vain hope that somehow, that would fix her problems and make her magically skinny. The poking only made her hate the soft feeling of her fat-laden flesh beneath her fingers.

Why hadn't she noticed it before?

The signs had been there; the mild snickering behind her back as she walked by, other girls suddenly switching the conversation over to amazing new diets they had heard about whenever she entered the conversation, any boy she liked or asked out giving some lame excuse about her being "not their type".

The truth was that each of them had been saying she was fat.

She prodded her stomach gently and watched as her fat bounced from the contact. But no…no…it wasn't true! It was just the baggy clothes that was making her appear to be fat!

Desperately, she tore off her sweatshirt and T-shirt and stared at the mirror once more.

She saw a fat girl standing there in a lacy black bra.

The girl's skin rolled at her tummy unappealingly; her upper arms were thick. Everywhere on the girl's body, she could see stretch marks from where the skin was rallying against the added area that it had to cover. The girl standing in front of her was nothing but a disgusting sack of fat; fat and uselessness.

_She_ was the sack of fat and uselessness.

She hated it! She hated it! She hated it!

Not even bothering to put her shirt back on, she rushed over to her brother's room. He would be out partying, so there was no chance of being caught. Her entire body was shaking as she quickly grabbed a box of cigarettes and a lighter from her brother's dresser.

When she returned to the sanctity of her room, she lit up a cigarette. Her hands fumbled with the small, silver lighter as her breathing came in short, ragged, breaths. She was shaking so much; she was frightened of what she was going to do; of what she knew she _needed _to do.

After finally succeeding in bringing the cigarette to life, she let the lighter fall listlessly from her hand. She stared at the red embers that danced almost playfully at the end of the cigarette. She had promised herself that she would never smoke; after all, her voice was going to be her meal ticket for the rest of her life.

But she didn't plan to smoke this cigarette.

Taking a moment longer to appreciate the glowing embers, she quickly brought the cigarette toward her still exposed stomach. She felt her body tense and her eyes squeeze shut in fear as the cigarette, guided by her own hand, drew closer and closer to her rolls of disgusting, disgusting fat.

She hated it!

Finding sudden courage, she jammed the burning cigarette into her fat; into the thing she most hated.

* * *

><p>"God, I can't believe we're still meeting here after all these years. You're, what? Sixteen now?"<p>

"Glad to see you can be bothered to remember my age."

"Hey, at least I remembered the stupid thing. I could have just forgotten about it completely."

"Glad that I'm just a 'stupid thing'."

"Oh shut up Dell; you're such a little drama queen."

"Hey, I don't want to hear that from the 'Queen of the Stage' herself. How has that been going by the way?"

"…It's been fine."

"Sure as hell doesn't sound like it."

"Well it has."

"You're lying Lily."

"I am not! Now shut up you jackass and just leave me alone!"

"Didn't realize it was such a touchy subject."

"Well it is. Don't bring it up again!"

"Fine, whatever you say."

"You know…you seem a lot less wimpy than when we were kids and you used to follow me around blubbering like mad."

"Jobs force people to grow up fast."

"A job? You didn't have one of those last year. Did you finally break your way into the video game industry?"

"…No. I'm working at an accounting firm; I crunch numbers."

"Wow, you have like a real-person job. How does that work with school?"

"…I stopped going to school. Haku's been going through some deep depression shit recently and our parents all but abandoned us, so it's fallen to me to earn money."

"I…didn't know. I'm sorry to hear that Dell."

"It's fine. …God, I need a smoke."

"You smoke now?"

"Yeah, it came with the new job. You sure as hell better not start preaching at me."

"Don't worry, I won't."

"You want one?"

"No, I can't smoke. I need my vocal cords to be in good condition."

"Suit yourself."

"…Hey Dell, do you ever feel like you're not good enough?"

"What do you mean?"

"Like, no matter how talented you are or no matter how much effort you put forward, you're never going to achieve a goal you've set for yourself?"

"Does this have something to do with your acting career?"

"Well yeah. I keep trying but no one notices me."

"Then screw them and just keep trying your best."

"It doesn't work that way! If they're not happy with how I look, they're never going to cast me in a lead role! I'll never be able to reach my dream!"

"You have talent; they'll recognize that. You're just exaggerating."

"Like hell I am! They never pick me for a lead role! It's because I'm fat! It's because I'm too much of a fucking, goddam fat- mph!"

"…"

"…"

"Screw them Lily. I love you."

"Oh, it's so easy for you to say that now after I've been waiting five years for those words to come out of your goddam mouth! Just take advantage of the emotionally unstable fat girl, kiss her, and declare that you love her! You're a bastard!"

"This isn't what this is Lily!"

"Screw you! Screw- !…"

"…"

"…"

"…! …Lily, what the hell are those?"

"W-What the hell are _you_ doing feeling me up?"

"Answer the question. What are all those marks on your stomach?"

"They're nothing."

"Don't lie to me. They're three perfect circles right along your stomach. That didn't happen by accident."

"I had to! I'm not perfect! I'm not good enough! I have to keep doing it! I have to for every day- for every day I'm not perfect!"

"You're going to change yourself just to make people happy? To hell with that. I _know_ that you're perfectly fine just as you are."

"Well I don't give a fuck what you think you know! I never want to see your goddam face again!"

* * *

><p>She was running out of room to burn herself.<p>

The line of burn marks on her stomach had quickly escalated to the point where it crisscrossed nearly every inch of available skin. The mess of perfect little circles had formed together into an amorphous patch of burned flesh. The patch served as a reminder of every day she was imperfect.

But she was getting better, she was getting there! She was going to be perfect.

No, no, no, it wasn't fast enough! She wanted – she needed – to be perfect now!

She was eating too much; that had to be it!

Desperately, she dove her hand under her pillow and pulled out a small notepad that had become her constant companion over the past three months. She began to flip through the pages as her eyes frantically scanned the total calorie count for each day of the past three months of her life.

1015…1048…1007…1034…1120…

That was it! That had to be the problem! She was eating too much!

Renewed with the hope that she would be able to lose weight more rapidly if she simply ate less, she began to plan out her meals for tomorrow. If she skipped out on the grapes and half slice of bread she had been planning to eat, if would allow her to cut quite a few calories…

Time ticked away as she made adjustments to her menu. The only sound in her house was the occasional scratch of her pencil on crinkled notebook paper: her parents had gone to bed hours ago and her brother was out partying like he did every night. She only had her thoughts – her insecurities – to keep her company.

With a self-satisfied smile, she evaluated the list of food, several of which had been vehemently crossed out, and began to calculate the new calorie total.

562.

Perfect! With that, she was sure to be beautiful and skinny in no time! While she was at it, she could increase her daily jog to an hour rather than 45 minutes…

The grandfather clock in the study chimed once.

She lifted her head to look at the clock that rested on the night stand next to her bed. The gaudy, green florescent lights flickered back at her, informing her that it was one in the morning.

It was time to engage in the ritual.

Just like that first night three months ago.

Somehow, she would have to find another patch of empty skin.

As if driven by an invisible force, she allowed the pencil to drop from her hand as she raised herself from her prone position on her bed. She stood up mechanically and took careful, calculated steps towards her bedroom door. She had made this journey many times; her feet knew the way without the assistance of her mind.

Within seconds, she entered into her brother's room and picked up a small, silver lighter and a cigarette. She didn't even have to look around for them any longer; she knew exactly where they were.

Her mechanical movement led her back to her bedroom and onto her bed. She didn't react in the slightest as she lit up the cigarette and watched the embers dance in the darkness of the night.

She was still imperfect; she needed to be reminded of that fact.

Holding the cigarette in her hands, she began to search her stomach for a spot that was still blank. Realizing that her search was futile, she rolled up her sleeve and looked at her upper arm. She remembered the first night she had started this ritual; her arms had hung heavy with disgusting fat. She had hated her arms.

She still hated them.

They were imperfect.

Unbidden, his face returned to her mind and she felt her throat grip in terror. He had looked so angry - so disappointed - with her. He had said she was perfect the way she was...he had said that he loves her...

No, no, that wasn't good enough! If she didn't get the lead role, then their promise would...

A twisted smile working its way on her face, she slammed the cigarette into her upper arm and felt all her worries rush away as pain burned away every other concern. She was rewarded for her efforts with the smell of burning flesh and the satisfaction of knowing she had found another place to keep tally of all the days she wasn't good enough.

* * *

><p>"…"<p>

"…"

"…"

"…I guess she's not coming this year…"

"…"

"…Lily…"

* * *

><p>She had made it. She had finally made it! The lead role she had always wanted; the lead role she had always coveted; it was finally her chance to stand in the bright spotlight. It was her chance to be the last one to bow and meet thunderous applause.<p>

It had only taken two years for her to be perfect enough to be chosen.

Her hands shook with anticipation as she applied the last of the make-up to her upper arm. The burning ritual had gone on so long that some of her damaged skin peaked out from underneath her costume. Of course there was the perfect solution for this; just cover up all the scars with make-up.

Cover the imperfections with false perfections.

With one more dab for good measure, she stood from in front of the mirror and gave herself an once-over. A large smile split her soft, pink lips as she looked at the woman who stared back at her.

Dull, short, brown hair had been replaced with golden locks that flowed down her back, some strands sweeping well past her knees. Uninteresting brown eyes had been covered with startling blue contact the made her eyes glow in the vanity mirror lights. Eyebrows had been plucked, lips had been slathered with lipstick, every blemish was covered with make-up.

Most importantly, where there had once been rolls of disgusting, disgusting fat, there was a perfectly shaped body: the perfect hourglass shape that she had been striving after for so many years.

She was just about to leave the dressing room when a silver glint caught her eye. As if compelled by a force beyond her control, she turned around and looked at the source of the offending glint.

It was a lighter.

It was her brother's lighter.

It was the lighter she had been using for all these years.

Almost as if moving against her will, she sat once more at the stool placed before the vanity. She took the lighter into her hand and flicked it open with a satisfying click. One more click and a small ember danced on the top of the lighter.

She couldn't draw her eyes away from the dancing flame as her other hand plunged into the purse that rested on the counter. A moment later, she extracted a cigarette from the purse and held it to the flame, allowing it to slowly lite.

This time as she took the cigarette in her hand, she couldn't help but wonder why she was doing it – wasn't she perfect? No, her mind quickly replied for her. She wasn't perfect; she was simply good enough for one show. What if she didn't get the next one? What if her getting this role was just a fluke of fate?

What if he didn't come?

What if she wasn't truly perfect?

She shook her head violently – she wasn't allowed to think like that!

…But what if it was true?

If it was true, there was only one solution.

She would have to carry on with the ritual.

* * *

><p>"I want four dozen lilies."<p>

"Four dozen sir? I don't mean to be rude, but that seems like an awful high number."

"I didn't ask for your opinion. Just get the flowers."

"O-of course sir. Coming right up!"

* * *

><p>She wanted to puke or run away or cry or scream or just tear her hair from her head.<p>

Why? Why? WHY?

She was perfect wasn't she? She had made herself good enough to get the lead role; good enough to be the one that everyone stood and clapped for at the end of the play. She had performed perfectly and the audience had loved her.

Everything had gone perfectly.

Then why? WHY?

Her hands shook and her vision blurred as she continued to stare down at the offending object.

It was a large bouquet of lilies with a card shoved haphazardly amongst the flowers.

Trembling with emotions she couldn't even begin to name, she pulled the card from the flowers and turned it over in her hands. She recognized the handwriting instantly; sketchy and nearly impossible to read. He did always say that he didn't need to practice his handwriting because he could just type it on the computer.

Driven by a sudden, burning desire, she ripped the card open and frantically scanned the words written there. As she absorbed each word, she felt her stomach and heart lurch in protest. She wanted to stop, but she knew she couldn't.

_"Lily-"_

No dear, no to; not even a "hey". How like him.

_"I came to the performance today, just like we promised. You did a good job. You don't have to worry about holding up your end of the promise; Haku and I are moving so I'm closer to work and so she's closer to her therapist. I was going to tell you the address on our usual meeting day, but you never showed up. I guess you don't want to talk to me because you never answered any of my calls. I can tell that our friendship is through. I wish you all the luck in the world. I still love you, even if you hate me. – Dell"_

She felt all the strength rush from her legs as she collapsed onto the ground. She continued to grip the card in her hand as unbidden tears fell onto the page, smearing the ink. It wasn't fair! She had become perfect! Everything should have worked out for her! She was supposed to have her fairy tale ending!

Instead, she simply felt hollow as she continued to stare down at that one line. She wanted to laugh at the absurdity of it all, but her laughter was swallowed by dark, bitter tears.

It was the perfect irony. He had come. She was perfect now. There was no more reason for her to burn herself.

She was perfect and he was gone.

_I still love you, even if you hate me._

"…I…I don't hate you Dell…I love you…I love you! I wanted…I wanted to be perfect for you! If I was perfect, I would get the lead role and you would come see me perform…why aren't you here? …I love you…I love you...please…please…don't leave me…"

Her desperate plea was heard by only the uncaring walls of her private dressing room, a privilege saved for those who were "perfect".

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **Oh Lily, will you ever have a happy chapter? - looks forward to all the songs Lily's assigned to - ...Nope, you probably won't.


	15. Ryuto and Clara

**A/N:** Hey guys, long time no see. I could go into a long explanation of why, citing things such as sickness, working 2 jobs, a death in my family, and other such things, but those really are just excuses.

So I'm back now (hopefully) and the first chapter I give you guys is another "weird" chapter. Whoops. If you enjoy it though, please let me know, I would love to hear it! Side note: with the upload of this chapter, this is officially my longest "story" chapter-wise.

Many, many, MANY thanks to these wonderful individuals for their reviews and immense patience: princedwardriviera, I My Me Mine, TheNextAlice, SmilingOnTheInside, irish d' salmon luver, and Rho97. If I were you guys, I wouldn't put up with me and my lateness anymore.

* * *

><p>Song: Pan's Labyrinth Lullaby - Pan's Labyrinth OST<p>

Characters Involved: Ryuto & Clara

* * *

><p>She was running.<p>

She wasn't sure where she was going.

Was she running away from him or was she running towards him? Which "him" was she referring to? Her mind was too jumbled with panic to form any sort of coherent answer to her own questions.

Instead, she simply kept running. She simply kept propelling her body forward as thought fled and instinct took over.

Behind her, she could hear the echo of angry shouts amongst the twisted canopy of the forest. Hot tears pricked at the back of her eyes; she recognized every single voice that followed behind her. They were teachers, neighbors, friends.

Family.

Her brother.

No.

No, no, no, no!

She wanted to scream as loud as humanly possible in an attempt to block out the dark voices that followed her. They were not the kind voices she was used to – they were angry; they were filled with hate.

Hate for her.

This wasn't happening! This was just a horrible nightmare! In a few minutes, the stress would become too much from her mind and she would jolt awake. In a few minutes, the hatred, anger, and terror would dissipate and be replaced with warmth, love, and acceptance.

It's just a nightmare.

It's just a nightmare.

How she desperately wished that statement was true. She wished that the biting scent of the forest burning was just a nightmare; she wished that the hate filled screaming was just a nightmare; she wished the pounding terror in her chest was just a nightmare.

However, it was all too real to simply be dismissed.

Her head pounded. Her lungs burned. Her eyes blurred with barely restrained tears.

_"You're only allowed to cry when you've lost everything. Dad may be gone, but we've still got each other – we've still got our family. So no more crying, alright?"_

She recognized his voice instantly. It was her older brother – the boy who had acted as protector, mentor, and father to her for a large portion of her young life. He was the one she loved more than anyone in the world.

He was one of the people who had set the forest on fire.

He was one of the people who wanted her dead.

The memory of both his intense love and intense hatred came back at the same moment with a resounding crash and she felt all her inhibitions instantly flee. Tears ran freely down her face as the smoke of the burning forest invaded her lungs, causing her to hiccup and cough as she continued to run deeper into the forest.

Why was she running?

It was such a simple question, but no matter how many times she posed it to herself, she couldn't come up with an answer.

She should have been with the other villagers – she should have been with her family. She should have been standing outside the forest, watching the ancient place being reduced to nothing but a pile of smoldering ash. Those actions would have been save, accepted, normal.

Right.

Those actions would have been the right choice.

Instead, she was running deeper and deeper into the forest as the flames lit by her family and friends began to nip at her heels. What she was doing was stupid.

What she was doing was wrong.

But it was right; she knew it was right. If she was forced to do it all over again, she would make the exact same decision. No matter how many people stood against her, she would make the same choice every time.

She had to.

There was no other option to make.

After all, she loved him.

He was her family, her little brother, there was no way she could abandon him to die. No, she would do everything in her power to save him. She knew it was futile; she was only a nine year old girl. Against the might of the entire world, there was so little she could do. The villagers hadn't listened to her when she tried to describe the situation and stop them from burning the forest, his home, to the ground – he was friendly, he was kind, he was…he was…

He was her family.

That was what brought about the change. That one simple word: "family". By uttering that word, she was no longer considered a child cast in hysteria by her first time experiencing the ritualistic killing of the beast. That one word changed her in the eyes of everyone present.

Suddenly, she was a witch; she was a terrible entity that had the power to communicate with the beast of the forest.

With that one simple world, no one was on her side any longer. Even her family – even her big brother, who always stood by her side – abandoned her. Just like the rest of the village, they looked at her with a mixture of terror and hatred. They began to close in around her. She could already see them calculating the best way to kill a witch and ensure that her soul doesn't come back to haunt them. The looks in their eyes terrified her.

She was alone.

He had been alone for so many years before she came along.

That was the moment she made her decision. That was when she broken through the line of villagers and plunged into the already enflamed forest. That was the moment she began running in order to find him; in order to save him.

As her feet pounded out an unsteady rhythm beneath her, she couldn't help but think how stupid that sentiment was. She was supposed to save him? She, a lone girl of only nine years, was supposed to stand against all the people she had ever loved in her life in order to save him?

She was supposed to stand against the world to save him – an abomination?

"Yes," She whispered quietly to herself, in a voice hoarse from crying and coughing. Her footsteps would keep leading her forward, ever closer to the heart of the forest, to where she knew she would find him. Yes, she was going to save him; she was going to save the abomination.

Her footsteps began to slow as she reached the very heart of the forest. To anyone else, it would look exactly the same as any other clearing in the forest. However, to her it meant so much more. This was the place where she would spend hours with him; this was the place where she had made not only a friend, but a family member.

"Ryuto!" She called as she jumped over the log that marked the entry into the heart of the forest. Her breath came in short gasps as she doubled over, trying to catch her breath. While she had managed to outrun the flames, the heat and ash that came as a result of the flames preceded her arrival and made it difficult to catch her breath. Despite this, she took as many gasping breaths as possible; once the two of them left the clearing, they would be doing nothing but running until they escaped the forest. She needed to gather her energy as much as possible before then.

Slowly her breathing returned to normal and she lifted her head to look around the clearing. Her mind clouded with concern; usually Ryuto had emerged by this point; usually he would have already crashed into her and tackled her to the ground in a childish hug.

Why were things different this time?

Where was he?

"Ryuto!" She called again, willing her voice to be louder. There was no way she was going to give up; he was her family and she had been taught that family never abandoned one another.

That was something her brother had taught her.

"Please, please come here!" She called, her voice growing thinner as hot ash scorched her throat. She began to look desperately around the clearing, pushing shrubbery aside as she sought the young boy.

"Kuraru..."

Her heart jumped into her throat as she heard the quiet voice behind her; it was him, it definitely had to be him! When she turned around and saw him standing there, she felt relief flood her system as she rushed towards him and pulled him into a strong hug. His small frame felt frail and vulnerable in her embrace; in that moment, she knew she had made the right choice.

She had rushed into the forest to save the abomination.

She had rushed into the forest to save her little brother.

She had rushed into the forest and made the right choice.

"Kuraru," She heard his muffled voice issue from her embrace. His word only made her hold him tighter. How many hours had she spent trying to teach him to say "Clara" only to reach "Kuraru" before she gave up and told him it was alright if he just called her that? She didn't know the answer, and honestly didn't care.

In Ryuto's eyes, she wasn't a witch, she wasn't even Clara – she was Kuraru.

Maybe that would be enough for her.

Ryuto began to squirm in her grasp as he made tiny squeaks of terror. The reality of the situation came rushing back to Clara as she released Ryuto and stood up. The forest was burning down, he was terrified, the two of them had to get out of there.

"Don't worry Ryuto," Clara said, filling her voice with false confidence, "We're going to get out of here. I promise. We'll escape and then we'll go and buy a little house where no one can find us. I'll be the best big sister you've ever had."

If Ryuto understood her words, he gave no indication. Instead, he looked worriedly from Clara to the direction that the fire was approaching from. He continued to chatter nervously to himself as he shuffled uncomfortably. Clara could tell that he was about ready to burst into tears at any moment.

"You can't cry," Clara said soothingly as she gently rubbed the top of Ryuto's head, "You're…you're only allowed to cry when you've lost everything, okay?"

The words seemed to have some effect on Ryuto, because he gave an unsteady nod if his head before looking expectantly up at Clara. He was waiting for her to make the first move. The roles were reversed from what Clara was used to, but she tried her best to remember how her brother acted in situations such as these. It was her turn to be the older sibling. She couldn't let Ryuto down now.

"We have to run away. Here, take my hand," She said as she held her hand out to him. Without a moment's hesitation, he placed his hand in hers.

He placed his life in her care.

Clara gave what she hopped was an assured nod of her head before she turned and ran off into the opposite direction of the fire. As her steps once more fell into rhythm, she couldn't help but continue to glance back at Ryuto, who lagged slightly behind her.

It was the horns, the horns like those of a goat; it was the hooves, the hooves like that of a cow; it was the tail, the tail like that of a lizard. All those factors set him apart from being a normal human – all those traits marked him as an abomination, something that had to be evil; something that had to be killed.

However, Clara had long ago stopped noticing the horn, the tail, and the hooves. Instead, she saw large green eyes that were usually filled with the joy of being alive; she saw his bright green hair which was constantly mussed up, no matter how many times she attempted to tame it; she saw his smile, which was terrible contagious, even when she was in the worst of moods.

Instead of an abomination, she saw a little boy.

She saw her little brother.

She saw someone she loved more than life.

As the two of them continued to run, she couldn't help but wonder when she had started thinking of him as a little brother. Was it the first time she finally got him to say "Kuraru"? Was it the first time she snuck him some of the scraps from her table? Was if the first time he showed her the special waterfall that was hidden deep in the forest?

No, she realized. No, those were all wrong.

The first time she started thinking of him as a little brother was the first time she saw him smile. After seeing that, there was no way she could think of him as an abomination. Abominations were terrifying things; things that appeared in nightmares. He was none of those things.

He was her little brother.

"Kuraru!"

The terrified sound of his voice broke her from her memories as she pulled up short. She felt her heart stop dead in her chest. There was no way. It was simply impossible. What she was seeing, it was…it was…

It was a wall of fire.

It was a wall of fire headed directly their way.

Too late Clara realized what had happened. Of course the village hadn't started the fire in just one location; if they had done that, the abomination might have had a chance to escape. To ensure that didn't happen, they had started fires in every corner of the forest.

They were trapped.

They were going to die.

Clara's body went stiff with terror as she stared at the blaze that slowly approached her. Even in the face of such heat, her hands were clammy and it felt like her heart had been clamped in a cold vice.

She was going to be burned alive.

She was going to die.

For a moment, all time seemed to stand still as she realized just what "death" implied. There would be nothing left; the only thing that remained of "Clara" would be memories. However, even those would be stamped out as quickly as possible; she was a witch after all. No one wanted or needed memories of a witch.

She was going to die.

Would this news make her family sad? Would they – would her older brother cry for her?

No, no he wouldn't.

After all, she was simply an abomination.

"_You're only allowed to cry when you've lost everything."_

With sudden clarity, Clara realized that she was already dead. "Clara" had died the moment her family had turned on her. "Clara" had died the moment her older brother abandoned her and condemned her to die in this blazing forest.

Despite the heat, Clara felt large tears begin to roll down her face.

It was okay if she cried for this last little bit, right? It was okay for her to cry now, right? Just one last time...she wanted to cry just one last time...

Kuraru slowly became aware of the world around her once more as Ryuto nudged gently against her arm. How long had the two of them been standing there watching as the blaze drew closer? She looked down at Ryuto. His face was still colored with terror and he was visibly shaking. Kuraru took his hand once more and headed back the way they had come from.

"Come on Ryuto, let's go back to the clearing. Everything will be okay, I promise."

Ryuto looked uncertain, but he followed slowly after Kuraru. It was only minutes before they reached the clearing they had left only moments ago. The air was stiflingly hot and Kuraru could feel her lungs shriveling with each breath she inhaled. Instead of fleeing as every instinct in her body commanded of her, she sat down in the middle of the clearing and motioned for Ryuto to do the same.

After the young boy settled next to her, she pulled his shaking from into a hug.

"It's going to be okay…it's going to be okay…" Kuraru mumbled to him as she continued to embrace him, "Don't worry. Your big sister is here. I'll take care of you."

To her surprise, she felt the young boys body begin to shake more violently and she suddenly realized that he was crying. She held him tighter in response.

"Hey, none of that. You're only allowed to cry when you've lost everything. I know it may seem bad now, but you've still got me. As long as you've still got me, you'll never be alone, alright?"

The young boy continued to cry for a little longer as Kuraru gently rubbed his back. When the tears finally stopped, Kuraru laid the young boy gently in her lap. He looked confusedly up at her as she gave a small, sad smile.

"You must be tired. We did a lot of running today, didn't we? How about I sing you a lullaby and you get some sleep?" She said softly. The young boy's immediate response was to shake his vigorously and begin to squirm in protest. Kuraru simply smiled vaguely and began to sing.

The notes reverberated low in her chest as she began to hum a lullaby without words.

The song meant everything to her.

When he was still around, her father used to sing it to Clara when she woke up in the middle of the night with bad dreams.

In recent years, her brother would sing it to Clara any time she wanted to break down in tears and simply give up.

Now, it was Kuraru's turn.

This time, she would be the one singing rather than the one receiving the song.

As her song neared the end, she watched as Ryuto's breath slowed and he snuggled down into her lap. Kuraru couldn't help but smile as she began to absentmindedly rub the top of Ryuto's head.

She wasn't allowed to sleep yet. It was her job as the big sister to keep watch and make sure that her little brother got a good night sleep.

She lifted her eyes from the sleeping form of her little brother and looked out at the blaze that was consuming the forest. There were nightmares in that blaze; there were nightmares that would surely haunt the dreams of her little brother if he was forced to view them.

So she would keep watch.

Kuraru would keep watch until the nightmare passed.

After all, it was Kuraru's job as Ryuto's big sister.


	16. Leon x Sonika

**A/N:** This chapter was going to be happy/fun. Then I went for a walk in an autumn rainstorm. The story quickly became melancholy.

On a completely unrelated note, I just wanted to give you guys a heads-up that it's almost November, and the means the start of NaNoWriMo! That also means that I probably won't have any updates during that month. You might get one more one-shot before then, but in case I don't write another one, I thought I would let you know.

All these reviewers are wonderful. Seriously. I give them all the gratitude I have: Ten-Faced, princedwardriviera, TheNextAlice, I My Me Mine, and yiseunggi. If I knew you guys in real life, we would all be best friends. We would be an awesome posse of awesome. (Sorry, lack of sleep is getting to me)

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><p>Song: Two Nobodies in New York - [title of show] Original Cast Recording<p>

Couple: LeonxSonika

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><p>"What's your dream?"<p>

"…What?"

"I asked you what your dream is."

Sonika could do little more than gape at the man sitting next to her. His face was right next to hers, allowing her a good view of his features. He had blonde hair that somehow managed to match terribly with the blue shade of his eyes. He wore a cheap looking suit that had obviously been patched up one too many times and he looked to be several years older than her – maybe in his early to mid twenties? When he spoke, his voice was little more than a harsh whisper, a whisper intended for only her to hear, but his eyes were glowing with quiet curiosity.

She could tell that he honestly cared how she answered. He didn't want some half-assed, thrown-together-at-the-last-moment response that she provided just to shut him up. He wanted to know the truth.

It made her want to punch him in the goddamn mouth.

She wanted to punch him in the goddamn mouth so fucking bad.

"Are you retarded?" Sonika answered in a whisper far more harsh than the one that had been issued to her. She watched as his face settled into a gentle smile.

"I suppose I could be," He responded with a half-shrug of his shoulders, "But that's not really important to the conversation. So, I'll ask again; what's your dream?"

Sonika had to physically dig her fingernails into the seat in front of her to hold back the urge to punch him.

"I don't care how many times you ask, I'm not going to answer your damn question!" She hissed back, her voice coming out slightly louder than she intended. It didn't really matter; everyone was to busy with their own confusion and panic; they had no time to spare for the two individuals huddled together with their foreheads on the seats in front of them.

"I'm not answering your question," She repeated in an attempt to get through the numbskull's thick head. Rather than look discouraged, the man gave another half-shrug of his shoulders. It was a habit that was already beginning to irk Sonika.

"I guess you're allowed to keep your secrets. I just think it's kind of silly at this point," He stated as he held her eyes once more.

"Maybe I just don't like sharing personal secrets with strangers, no matter the situation," She responded bluntly, "Besides, what good would it do you to know? We're all going die soon."

"True." He gave another one of his non-committal shrugs, the whole while his idiot smile not leaving his face.

"That's it. You're officially mental. If we weren't about to die, I would recommend you go see a shrink as soon as we get off this plane."

"Why?"

"'Why'?" Sonika echoed incredulously, "Here, let me give you some good fucking reason: the plane we're currently sitting on is spiraling out of control. We're going to crash somewhere and we're all going to lite up in a freaking fireball of death. I mean sure, the pilots are fighting against it with everything they've got, but let's face it, the most they can do is buy a few more minutes for us to live. The end result is the same. We're going to die. And you know what you're doing? You're sitting here asking a girl you've never met – a girl you've never even spoken to before this moment – what her dream is."

"What am I supposed to be doing?"

"How the hell should I know? You're supposed to panic, or pray to your little 'god', or cry, or call your girlfriend and tell her you love her one last time, or, or, _something!_"

"I guess I could; I do have a girlfriend."

"Great, then call her and leave me to die alone in peace."

"I already tried. She didn't pick up the phone. I should have expected it; she's probably asleep at this hour."

"What, you only tried one time? What kind of true love is that? Aren't you supposed to keep frantically calling her until she wakes up?"

"I never said it was true love. I only said that she was my girlfriend."

"You know what, I've changed my mind. You're not mental, you're just a fucking sociopath."

Another one of those damnably annoying half-shrugs, "Maybe. I still love her, but she's long ago fallen out of love with me. Now she just sticks with me because it's easy, because it's something she's used to."

"I bet you're wrong. I bet you she'll cry when she finds out you died."

"Oh really? How would you know that? I thought we were total strangers. How could you possibly know anything about me, let alone my girlfriend?" A smile spread across his lips with each word he spoke.

Sonika felt her face heat in response as she turned away from the increasingly frustrating man sitting next to her. If she was smart, she would have just stood up and left the man to ponder whatever stupid thoughts he wanted to think on before he died; she was the one sitting in the aisle seat, so the option was definitely there.

"Shut up," She grumbled, "I'm allowed to think whatever I want. Screw this, I'm leaving."

However, she found herself unable to move.

Maybe it was because there was so much motion and chaos from every other passenger trying to make their last moments of life count; maybe she was just too tired to care.

Maybe she was actually intrigued by this odd man who would spend his last moments talking with a girl he had never met before.

"You know, she's going to cry when she finds out I'm dead."

"There you go!" Sonika turned back to him, a triumphant smile plastered on her face, "I told you that she still loves you!"

"Come now. I thought you were less naïve than that," The man responded, his blue eyes losing their smile for the first time since Sonika started talking to him, "She's not going to cry because she loves me; she's going to cry because she'll have to change."

"…What?"

"She'll have to change; she'll have to learn how to live life without someone to be a pillar for her."

"…You're the worst kind of cynic I've ever met."

"Ma-"

"Don't you _dare_ answer that with one of those annoying little half-shrugs of yours!"

"Alright, alright," He said holding his hands up in defeat and giving a slight laugh, "I'll try my best not to shrug my shoulders. I can't really promise anything though; as they say, old habits die hard and I don't really have a lot of time to work with to kill this one."

That's right, they were going to die.

Sonika knew it was going to happen. Hell, she had been the first one to mention it in the conversation. However, as the seconds stretched into minutes, she realized for the first time the implications of those words.

This was her last few minutes of life. Her last conversation would be with a strange man who she only knew because he happened to sit next to her on the plane.

If the sudden realization didn't terrify her so much, she probably would have laughed. How many people would be able to say that they died in a plane crash and their last conversation was with a complete stranger? Hell, she didn't even know his name!

Then again, he didn't know her name either; they were two nameless people having a final conversation on a crashing plane. The situation was so ludicrous that she would have delighted in relaying it to her friends and family if given the opportunity. But she was going to die. Even if she wasn't, she was sure that her parents wouldn't listen to her.

She had burned those bridges a long time ago.

She was alone.

No friends, no family - no one that even knew her name.

She was a nobody.

She was going to plummet to the earth, die in a spectacular fireball, and no one was going to care.

"Don't you have someone you should call?"

"Butt out," Sonika snapped back instinctively as she glared at the man once more, "If I had someone to call, I would have called them already."

"Is that so? You don't have any family or friends to contact and say any final goodbyes to?"

"No," She responded flatly.

"Are you really sure? You're not going to call your parents and tell them you love them one more time? You're not going to call your boyfriend and say that you want him to be happy and move on without you?"

With every word that escaped the man's mouth, Sonika felt the rage within her stomach roil and burn. She wanted to scream at him to shut up – to stop making it worse – but a lump at the back of her throat stole away her powers of speech. She had managed to survive so long without thinking about the family and friends she had abandoned! Why did he have to bring it up?! She dug her fingernails deeper into the seat in front of her and closed her eyes tightly as she held back the emotions that fought to bubble to the surface.

"If you don't have a cellphone, you can borrow mine," She heard the man next to her say, followed by the sounds of him rustling around, looking for his phone, "Of course, I'm not really sure what kind of reception it gets while we're spiraling down to our deaths. I really don't think cellphone companies prepare for that kind of thing."

He concluded his speech by giving a slight laugh and another one of his half-shrugs.

Sonika felt herself snap.

"Don't you get it you idiot?!" She shouted as she stood up. No one in the plane noticed her movement besides the man sitting next to her. His eyes simply met hers as she glared down angrily at him with all the hatred she had accumulated over the past eighteen years of her life.

"We. Are. Going. To. Die!" Sonika said, placing heavy emphasis on each word, "How the hell can you make jokes in the face of that?! How the hell are you so calm?! I'm scared shitless! How can you laugh?! How can you make jokes?! You're never again going to see the girlfriend that you love! Doesn't that make you sad?!"

Sonika panted as she took huge, gulping breaths, trying to regain all the air she had just expelled during her rant. Her cheeks were burning with rage and her vision blurred. She blinked rapidly in an attempt to clear her sight, but that only made things worse. As her hands began to paw at her eyes in an attempt to clear her vision, she found herself taking huge gulping breaths.

It was only at this point that she realized she was crying.

Despair overwhelming her, she sank back into her chair and pulled her knees to her chest. She bawled as loudly as she wanted to; she no longer cared who heard or if someone saw her displaying weakness. She just didn't fucking care anymore!

Sonika allowed herself to indulge in her weakness for a few moments before her crying came to a shuddering stop. Slowly and methodically, she untangled herself and moved into the position she had been sitting in before; head resting on the seat in front of her with her hands in her lap.

Her eyes were fixated on the upholstery of the seat in front of her, but out of the corner of her eyes, she could see the man still examining her.

"Do you feel better now?" She heard him ask in his kindly voice.

"No. I'm still going to die," She tried her best to control her voice, but she heard it waver in fear, betraying her true emotions.

"I guess death's not really something you can prepare yourself for, huh?"

"Of course not."

"You know, I lied earlier when I told you that I have a girlfriend."

"Well good for you."

"She's actually my wife. I didn't lie when I said she's fallen out of love with me; that part was true. I guess what I forgot to tell you is that we've been separated for three years now and the only reason I was visiting was to celebrate our daughter's fifth birthday."

"…Why exactly are you telling me all this? It's not as if I'll be able to help you or anything. Unless you forgot, I'll be just as dead as you are when this plane hits the ground."

"That's true, but I guess I just wanted someone to know."

"You're an idiot."

"Yeah, my wife's told me that a lot of times."

The two of them fell into silence as they listened to the chaos of the other passengers around them. Although she hadn't bothered to listen before, Sonika could hear the sounds of a child crying; she heard the sounds of lovers declaring their unending love for one another; she heard the sound of mother's comforting their children – she even heard the sound of two voices, one of an adult and one of a child, singing a nursery rhyme together.

They all had someone there at the end for them. They all had someone who would know their name and care for them.

They weren't nobodies.

"I've been running away from home for the past three months," She stated slowly, allowing each word of her confession to slowly roll off her tongue.

"Ah, so that's why you didn't want to call anyone," The man stated as if he had just solved a great puzzle. She allowed her eyes to flicker to him for a moment; he was also leaning up against the back of the chair and he was staring intently at her face, waiting for her to start speaking again.

"Maybe," Sonika retorted, her eyes darting away from his once again.

"May I ask why you ran away?"

"You can ask, but that doesn't mean I have to answer you."

"Fair enough I suppose. But, I think I'll still take a crack at it. Why did you run away from home?"

Sonika didn't want to tell him. He was a stranger, what good would telling him do?

"You know, it's only a matter of seconds now," She heard the man comment from next to her, "If you want to say something, now would be the best time to do it."

"…I want to be a professional photographer."

"What a beautiful dream," The man said as he leaned back in his chair and closed his eyes, "I hope that you're able to achieve it someday."

"Thanks," Sonika replied as she also leaned back in the chair. Although she was trying her best to be nonchalant about the whole situation, in reality she was frightened out of her mind. She wanted to revert back to being a child; she wanted to sing nursery rhymes and make all the scary feelings go away. She didn't want to die alone; she didn't want to die and have no one remember her.

She gathered all her willpower to find her voice and ask the man next to her a question.

"And you, what's your dream?"

A smile flickered across the man's face, but he didn't open his eyes or turn to face Sonika. Instead, he gave an almost wistful sigh.

"I've already achieved my dream."

"Fine then, what _was_ your dream?"

"To be a father."

But that dream was taken away; he was separated from his daughter. He was going to die and the most she would remember of him would be vague snatches of an oddly familiar voice or a face that was somehow familiar, but impossible to identify. His dream had been ripped out from underneath him. The daughter that he loved so much - the daughter who had been his dream - wouldn't remember him.

He was a nobody.

"…You should call your wife."

"She won't pick up the phone. I had a fight with her right before I boarded the plane; she would never pick up the phone once she saw it was me. There's no way I could get in contact with her or my daughter."

"Those are some awfully shitty excuses. You just have to try harder."

"And you could very easily get in contact with your parents one last time to tell that that you still love them."

"No, they would be too busy yelling at me. The plane would crash before I had time to explain."

"So we're both going to die and no one's going to know about it, huh?"

"It sucks balls, but it looks that way."

"My name is Leon. It's a pleasure to meet you."

"Sonika."

"It's a lovely name. I'll make sure to remember it and the girl whom it names well after my life has ended. I hope you'll remember my name also."

Sonika's only response was a non-commital half-shrug.


	17. Yuuma x Luka

**A/N:** Okay, I lied. I am posting in November. I went through a "I hate everything I write for NaNoWriMo" moment, so I thought I would break it up with working a little bit on the one-shot I was in the middle of writing...then I got into it, and here we are about 4,000 words later.

Oh, as an addendum to the fact that I'll be gone for most of November, I'll also be gone until December 17th. I'm going on an approximately 2 week trip to Germany and I'm not taking my laptop with me. I'm sorry for the super long time that you guys will be without an update. Forgive me?

All that silliness aside, I have to thank these wonderful people for their reviews and encouragement: TheNextAlice, I My Me Mine, LunarSpaceWoman, FireRuby14, Ten-Faced, and Yi! You guys are awesome and encourage me more than you will ever know!

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><p>Song: Marry Me - Emilie Autumn<p>

Couple: YuumaxLuka

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><p>What he was about to do was strictly prohibited. It went against everything he had been taught from birth; it went against all the societal conventions that had been engrained in his head for the past twenty years of his life. If anyone found out, he would probably be declared an extremist and execution would quickly follow.<p>

Despite this, he was going to go through with it.

It wasn't a spur of the moment decision – far from it. He had been planning meticulously for this day for weeks now. It wasn't so much that he was confident that his plan would work, rather he had taken great pains to ensure that there was no way it could fail.

As he walked through the ruins of the city, he swept his piercing yellow eyes over everything he passed, insuring that he missed no detail. He cataloged every ruined building repurposed into a make-shift house; he cataloged every despondent Moth Class individual that he passed; he cataloged the slant of the sun and quickly estimated the time to himself.

It would soon be the hour the two of them had agreed upon.

The buildings grew sparser as he drew further away from the heart of the Moth Cocoon and deeper into unknown territory. Within a few minutes, he was the only individual still following the road, his footsteps echoing hollowly off the high cliffs that surrounded him on both sides. He had ventured this far out from the familiarity of the city of ruins only a handful of times, but he knew exactly where he was going and what he was looking for. There would be no turning back until he reached his goal.

His determinations lead him to take the last few steps until he reached the place where road stopped and sheer cliff began. The height made his head spin slightly as he stood near the end of the precarious cliff. From this vantage point, his ultimate goal looked to be nothing more than a vague white speck in the distance; it hardly looked like anything worth spending weeks upon weeks of meticulous planning to obtain. He, however, knew the truth.

People would steal, lie, and kill to obtain the chance he had.

They would do the exact same things he had done.

Taking only a moment longer to appreciate the sight before him, the sight that he would soon be observing up close for this first time, he turned from the cliff and headed down a rocky, untrodeen path that meandered aimlessly throughout the mountain. His face was set in grim determination as he began to follow a path that no Moth Class individual had followed since the caste system was established.

He was going to invade the Butterfly's Garden.

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><p>"The weather is quite lovely today, wouldn't you agree?"<p>

No.

It was hot.

The humidity level was uncomfortable to the point that it felt as if you were inhaling a lung-full of water every time you breathed. She couldn't help but give a bitter smile at the thought; it wasn't as if she was given many opportunities to breath – the perfectly laced corset restricting her lungs made sure of that. As she sat with a completely rigid back, as befitting one of her status, she felt every bead of sweat squirm its way down her spine.

She had been a member of the Golden Butterfly echelon for only a matter of weeks and she already hated it.

"Yes," She replied as her mind once more returned to the conversation at hand. Her voice lilted with a perfectly rehearsed faux pleasantness as she continued, "That's why I suggested we lunch in the garden rather than the dining hall. One would be completely remiss to miss such joyous weather, would they not?"

She couldn't help herself as a fraction of a smile found its way onto her lips at the looks of utter confusion that filled the other woman's face for a single moment before she covered it up with a gentle flick of the fan in her hand. Apparently, her word choice had been too verbose for the other woman. It was a small victory, but at this point, she was willing to take any victory.

"Yes, I quite agree with you Luka," The other woman responded slowly, prepared to change her answer if Luka's expression deemed it fit. Rather than give the woman an easy escape, Luka simply gave a pleasant smile and waited for the other woman to continue.

"I mean…it is such a lovely garden, isn't it? You simply must let me know whom you employ to tend to the roses; is it someone specifically from the Floral Moth class?" The woman finally managed to string together, trying her best to elegantly steer the conversation in a new direction.

For the first time since the conversation had started, Luka felt a brief trill of excitement shoot through her system. But unlike the woman across from her, she made no physical display of the phenomenon and instead stood and strode to one of the rose bushes planted nearby. She gently stroked one of the flowers as she spoke.

"In actuality, we have several individuals who work to maintain the gardens – we even employ few a Butterfly Class individuals whom oversee the Moth Class workers and ensure that everything is up to our impeccable standards."

"My goodness, I don't believe I've ever heard of someone actually employing individuals of the Butterfly Class!" The woman responded with shock; it was probably the first emotional response she displayed thus far in the conversation that had not been carefully fabricated before she executed it.

"My apologies, I suppose 'employ' is poor word choice on my part. It's more like they have such respect for my husband that they want to be more intimately involved in his affairs and his estate."

While not entirely a lie, it wasn't entirely the truth either. They did want to be more "intimately" involved, but their desire for intimacy started and stopped in the bedroom. They were social climbers – each and every one of the women that they employed from the Butterfly Class gave their bodies to the master of the house in hopes of gaining social status in exchange.

This information was common knowledge in the household; after all, her husband did ever so enjoy it when the woman beneath him screamed. As his legal wife, she was expected to wait meekly in bed for him to come to claim her after he finished playing with every other woman in the house. Many nights she managed to fabricate excuses that would pardon her from engaging in the activities, however the system wasn't perfect and many nights she had to be counted amongst the number of individuals her husband had bedded for the night.

As things currently stood, he was the one controlling her.

Or at least that's the delusion she liked to lead him to believe.

With a gentle twist of the stem, Luka freed the rose she had been gently brushing from the bush and turned around to face the other woman. Her face was a perfect mask of sincerity as she made her way back to the table and chairs that was set on the lawn. She placed the rose gently on the table. The other woman looked uncomfortably from the rose to her host.

"Do you really think it was alright for you to remove a rose from the bush?"

"You don't need to worry yourself about that. At worst they'll reprimand me for not allowing them to have the honor of cutting the flower for me themselves." Luka's sentence ended with her breaking into mirth filled giggles. However the reason for her laughter was quite different from that perceived by the woman she was speaking to.

"Well then, shall we make our way back into the house?" Luka gestured lazily towards that large mansion that she called a house, "I know we commented earlier on the pleasantness of the weather, but I believe a second evaluation has rendered this sunlight far too harsh for my complexion."

The other woman only nodded dully as she made her way back to the house. As soon as they entered the parlor and Luka felt the cold blast of air conditioning on her skin, she felt far more comfortable. She was just about to suggest to her guest that they tour the art gallery located upstairs when she saw the ornate doors of her husband's study open with a sharp slam. Her body instinctively dropped into a curtsey as she heard the tell-tale click of her husband's shoes on the wooden floors.

"You may raise now wife," He said in a booming voice as he stopped just inches in front of her. Luka raised herself up so she was looking into the eyes of the man she was supposed to spend the rest of her life with.

She couldn't help but think how much she hated him.

"Do you require something of me husband?" She responded in the most demure voice available in her repertoire. If this was the conversation she imagined it would be, she would need her husband to be as disarmed as possible.

"That's correct, however," At this point, his eyes flickered to Luka's guest who had previously been ignored, "I believe this is a private matter that others should not be privy to."

"Of course," Luka turned to her guest and gave an apologetic smile that looked sincere but was anything but, "I'm sorry that your visit has been cut so unfortunately short. Would you like to schedule another day for us to lunch together?"

"That sounds simply splendid," The woman responded in a voice that indicated the idea was the furthest thing from splendid, "I shall have my butler telephone you once I know what times I will be available."

"I look forward to the time when we may speak again. One of our maids shall escort you out. Have a pleasant day; I hope to see you sooner rather than later."

With no further thought for the woman, both husband and wife turned away and began to head for the study. Her husband led her, of course, but that also gave Luka the opportunity to stare with plain hatred at the man who laid claim to the gilded ball-and-chain that bound her to this life she so hated.

If everything went according to plan, however, she would soon be able to smash through the chains that bound her.

The two of them entered into the study and a maid quickly closed the door behind them. Her husband sat at his desk, his fingers absently tapping on the edge of the keyboard of his computer, while Luka stood in front of the desk like a child about to be scolded by a school master. She waited for her husband to be the first one to speak.

"There seems to be a disturbance amongst the workers," Her husband began, his voice harsh, but not quite accusing.

"I see," Luka responded, making sure to give away nothing without being directly asked for it.

"In particular, it seems one of the members of our Butterfly workers seems to have not reported for work for the past week."

"That's most distressing. If you don't mind me asking, who is it that has been so negligent of duty?"

"There is no need for you to know names," He husband responded smoothly. That was fine with Luka; she already knew who the missing individual was; it was her husband's favorite mistress. In other words, it was the one who screamed the loudest.

"Of course," Luka responded with an apologetic curtsey, "While it may be impudent of me to ask, why do you wish to speak to me about this?"

"You have taken an interest in the gardens, correct?"

"I must admit that I do find the gardens rather enchanting," She lied easily.

"Then you would know the areas that need the most improvement, correct?"

"I believe that I'm more informed than the average person, yes."

As the conversation continued to drag on, Luka felt like her heart would thud its way out of her chest. She was sure that part of her excitement stemmed from the fact that her corset was actively trying to asphyxiate her, however another reason was the danger of what she was about to engage in. She had been feigning interest in the garden ever since she arrived at the mansion; this was the moment that would inform her if all her work would finally pay off.

"You know that I value appearances more than anything; they are the things that allow you to get ahead in the world. If you appear powerful, people will perceive you as powerful," He husband stated, launching into a speech she had heard many times, "For that reason, I must maintain all images of perfection. However, I must admit that this is not always so simple and sometimes I feel overwhelmed."

"I do notice that. Is there anything I can do to ease your worries?" Luka asked, lowering her eyes demurely.

"I believe I shall give you free reign of the gardening staff. You are welcome to hire either Butterfly Supervisors or Moth Workers; choose whichever you believe will serve my needs best. You do know how to serve my needs best, correct?"

Luka understood the implications of what he said.

You do know the type of women I like to sleep around with behind your back, correct?

The only response Luka gave was a deep courtesy and a quiet, "Of course. I live only to serve you."

"Very well then. Leave me. I have important matters to attend to."

Another courtesy and then Luka headed out the door that had been opened for her by one of the always present maids. Once she's outside of the room, she can't help but let a predatory smile slip onto her face; she had set the trap and her idiot husband had walked straight into it. Everything was playing straight into her hands.

Cautiously assured of her victory, she walked to the wall and clicked the buzzer that would bring one of the individuals in charge of the vehicles of the estate running. Within moments, an older woman appeared at her side and gave a deep courtesy.

"I require a car for tonight," Luka informed her, "My husband has made a request of me and I want to fulfill it as effectively and efficiently as possible."

* * *

><p>Up close, the dome was far larger than he had ever anticipated. It rose into the air and joined somewhere far above his head. He had arrived at the meeting point early, so he had spent the time walking around a small part of the perimeter of the dome. It couldn't hurt to have a general idea of the landscape and the dome if he needed to make a quick escape of some form.<p>

He ran his hand along the dome as he made his way back to the official meeting spot. The dome was rough under his fingers, but his hands were so calloused from hard work that he barely noticed. His mind absently conjured the question of just what life was like inside the dome.

He had heard the stories from the Merchant Moths hundreds of times – when he was younger, he would ask for the same story over and over again because they enchanted him so much. Through the stories, he learned words like "air conditioning", "computers", "cars", "electricity", "phones", and so many other words that meant nothing to him but so managed to hold his attention. He always insisted that it was a love of technology that drove him to seek out more information about the Butterfly Garden.

However, he knew it was a lie.

Hatred was what drove his every action.

Hatred was why he had agreed to the crazy propositions set forth by some person he had never met. All he had to do was complete the tasks set before him and he would finally gain access to the one place he had always desired to go and yet had always been forbidden from entering.

Once he was inside, it would be a simple task to complete is ultimate goal.

Revenge would be bloody, but that was a sacrifice he was willing to make. He had already killed innocents in pursuit of his goal; it would be both foolish and disrespectful to those he had killed to turn back at this point.

At least that's what he told himself to justify what he was attempting to do.

He stopped dragging his hand along the wall as he once more reached the meeting point. Apparently his contact was running late. At this point it wasn't a cause for worry, but if it went on much longer, he would have to seriously reconsider what options were open to him. Now that he had made it this far, there was no turning back. He found a nearby rock and settled himself in a position that allowed him free view of the dome but did not afford the person he was meeting the same luxury.

There were many ways to gain minor advantages in this exchange and he was going to take every opportunity presented to him.

He didn't have to wait long for his contact to come out, but when he saw who it was, he couldn't help but spread his eyes in surprise. He had prepared for many things in this exchange, but this was not one of them.

Standing there in the setting sunlight was a woman. Her pink hair was piled high on top of her head and meticulously arranged so not a single hair was out of place. She wore a white gown that hung in several layers and brushed the ground as she gently shuffled about. Both her dress and her hair were spotted with small white flowers that he had never seen before. Her blue eyes were sharp and spoke of a matching sharp intellect. There was no reason for him to mince words while describing her.

She was beautiful.

She was beautiful and she was dangerous.

He was going to have to involve himself with this woman and he was going to have to step carefully. His evaluation of her complete, he stepped out of his hiding spot and made his presence known. As he walked towards her, she turned on her heel and began to run her eyes up and down him, clearly evaluating him. He stopped about a foot in front of her and waited for her to finish. Finally, she raised her eyes to his own.

"You're a man," She stated simply.

"And you're a woman," He responded instantly.

"Ah yes, I suppose I should apologize for using my brother's name while contacting with you. I figured if you thought the terms for agreement were from a woman you would be less likely to agree to them."

"Doesn't matter to me who you are. As long as you can get me inside the Garden, I'm willing to deal with you."

"Well that's rather surprising. I suppose gender differences are less pronounced in the Moth Class?"

"Don't know. I know next to nothing about the Butterfly Class, so it's not as I can compare the two."

"Very true," She responded with a girlish giggle, "Well now that the pleasantries are out of the way, I believe it's about time we get down to business Yuuma."

"Fine with me Luki," Yuuma responded, using the name to woman had used on her correspondences.

"Please, my name is Luka. I would prefer that you call me that; being called by my brother's name is in fact quite disturbing," She replied with a dismissive wave of her hand.

"Luka," He acknowledged with a nod, "Fine. How do you plan on getting me in?"

"How much do you know about gardening?"

"Nothing."

"Fine then. How much do you know about working long hours and doing what people tell you to do?"

"A lot."

"Good, then you pass the interview. My husband is looking for people to work in the gardens and I believe you're perfect for the job. While I'm sure he would have preferred a woman, I suppose he'll have to make do with one less mistress."

"Fine."

With the deal struck, a warm smile broke onto Luka's face and she gave a slight giggle. She motioned for Yuuma to follow her and the two of them headed into the dome together. Yuuma couldn't stop his head from pounding in excitement; he was so close to his goal now – he had even managed to be employed by someone who appeared to be a noble woman.

With any luck, he would be able to complete his revenge in a matter of weeks.

* * *

><p>The fact that he was physically attractive was a nice, but unnecessary, perk.<p>

When she had first seen the individual who called themselves Yuuma, her plan had cemented in her mind. She, of course, had prepared two possible scenarios, one where Yuuma was female and one where Yuuma was male. Once she met him and discovered that he was indeed a man, her plan cemented in her mind.

As the two of them drove back to the mansion, she watched as his eyes kept flickering to the scenery outside. She could tell that he would never admit it, but he wanted nothing more than to watch the world that had eluded him for so long unfolding outside. It was almost cute, in an easily manipulable way.

"So," Luka started, attempting to make casual conversation, "For what reason do you want to stay in the Garden?"

The man's attention shifted so it was all focused on her once more. She held the intense glare of those golden eyes easily and waited for him to respond to her question.

"There's no reason to tell you."

The bluntness of his responses still managed to catch her off guard. She was so used to the flowery well-rehearsed responses that were part of her daily life that she often times forgot that not everyone spoke so eloquently.

It was a trait of the Moth Class that would never be present in the Butterfly Class. For reasons she couldn't quite understand, his blunt responses always managed to bring forth a smile to her lips.

"Come now," She coaxed gently, "There must be a reason that you want to live amongst us."

"There is, but I don't need to tell it to you."

"Well, I believe this is a poor way to start off your cordial relationships with the wife of your employer. I could very easily convince my husband to fire you, you know. I doubt you'll be willing to get an opportunity like this once again."

"That's a risk I'm willing to take."

Yuuma's stubbornness only managed to stir Luka's interest further. He was a worthy opponent on both the intellectual and decit level. Playing with him would prove to be far more fun than she had initially anticipated.

"If you tell me why you want to get into the Garden, I'll tell you why I had you kill three people," Luka said, her voice low as she leaned forward and played the biggest ace she had. There was no reason for her to whisper; she had specifically requested the limo with the soundproof window so the driver would be none the wiser to the conversation happening directly behind them.

She waited for Yuuma's response, but his face was completely impassive as he stood there staring at her. The silence hung heavy between the two of them, broken only slightly by the gentle hum of the engine.

"I don't care to know. All I know is that we're both murderers and there's no going back for either of us."

"I suppose you have a point, however, I'm the wife of one of the most powerful men in the Garden; I'm pretty sure the law can't touch me."

"Maybe. But I know about your crimes and I've already killed three people."

"Is that a threat?"

"No, just a statement of facts."

Luka leaned back in her seat as a quiet predatory grin crossed her face. She had gathered the Moth Class individual she wanted and she would use him as she saw fit to reach her goals. The fact that he was both attractive and intelligent simply made the game more interesting.

Of course, it didn't change the ending.

She would use him as ultimate ticket out of the Garden.

She would use him and then throw him away.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **I might actually continue this one because I know exactly where I want to go with it and it explores a facet of relationships that I haven't gone into that much with this collection (if you haven't noticed, I'm trying to utilize different types of relationships and relationships at different points throughout this collection...I know I haven't really succeeded so far, but I'm working on it). I suppose that would (technically) make this a 101 one-shot collection...opinions on the matter?


	18. Yuuma x Luka Part 2

**A/N:** With the release of this story, I suppose the title of this thing should officially be changed to "99 One-Shots and a Two-Shot". However, that's not as snazzy as the title it currently has, so I'm not going to change it. Additionally, I think I should change the name of NaNoWriMo month to "Month where Ryuchu stays up till ridiculous hours of the morning to write one-shots", because I've done that two times this month already. Welp, running on three hours of sleep, here I come!

Many thanks to these awesomely awesome individuals: princedwardriveria and ElectroMoon. Thanks so much for reviewing, it means so much to me.

**NOTE!:** Although this is a one-shot collection, this chapter is a continuation of the previous chapter. If your starting to read at this chapter, please go back and read the previous chapter so you can get the full story. Thank you very much and sorry for the trouble.

* * *

><p>Song: Marry Me - Emilie Autumn<p>

Couple: YuumaxLuka

* * *

><p>Falling in love hadn't been part of the plan.<p>

Getting to know him better; spending time with him; even bedding with him – all of that had been accounted and planned for. It was, after all, her plan. If she wanted something to happen, she ensured that it happened.

However, something had gone wrong with this time.

Something about him had captured her and held her so effectively that there was no escaping from her feelings. It was an odd position she found herself in; she had never been in love so when the feelings started to arise, she had no name for them. She only knew that the man she had once viewed as nothing more than a pawn was suddenly so much more.

When she did finally realize that what she felt towards him was "love", it startled her.

It startled and terrified her.

Love was going to completely ruin her plans.

She turned the page of the novel she was pretending reading as calmly as possible before she nonchalantly glanced at the ancient coo-coo clock hanging on the wall. It had been ticking away the minutes quietly while she had been pondering her predicament, but it still wasn't time for her to go. Her husband was still working in the office; it would be awhile before he headed to his first mistresses' bed.

As her eyes closed and she slipped once more into her thoughts, she listened to the clock tick away the time. With each tick that went past her heart beat heavier in her chest. An ironical smile slipped its way onto her face.

Since when had the nights she could spend with him become the most important thing in her life?

Perhaps it was after the first time she slept with him? Or maybe it was long before that; maybe it was the first time she snuck out of the mansion to speak with him. Of course she had told herself at the time that she was simply meeting with him in an attempt to glean what his plans might be and if they would interfere with her own. Now, after many such nightly escapades and about four years later, she was able to admit the truth to herself.

She had been curious – curious and interested.

"WAAAAAAHHHHH!"

Luka's eyes snapped open suddenly as she was pulled from her reverie by the sound of a voice screaming with all its might. Carefully setting her book on the table next to her, she walked towards the cradle on the opposite side of the room. Without a second thought, she picked up the writing, crying child and began to rock him in her arms.

"Shh, it's alright," She cooed softly as the child continued to fight her, "Mommy's right here. There's nothing to cry about. Mommy will look out for you."

The cooing and struggling continued for a few moments more before the child began to settle down. Luka watched as the child's eyes slowly began to close as he drifted off to a sweet land of slumber once more. Even though his eyes were closed, she continued to stare at him as she gently rocked him.

The child had been part of the plan.

Loving him had not.

Every time she looked at the child – _their_ child – she couldn't help a twang of guilt from ringing in her chest. Could she really use the child in the way her plan intended?

Her mind and conscious provided no answer for her.

Instead, she could only think of him, a man she was never supposed to fall in love with. She found herself wishing once more that he wasn't the one who answered the ad. Loving him only made things more complicated and the plan more difficult to carry out.

She paced with the child in her embrace for a few moments longer, never removing her eyes from the rise and fall of the small, frail chest. When she finally stopped, she allowed her fingers to reach out and brush the wispy, pink hairs that adorned the child's head. The hair was easy enough to explain away – she had pink hair after all.

The eyes were significantly more difficult.

They were a startling gold, just like his father.

Her husband was oblivious, but he wasn't a dullard. As the child grew, he would begin to notice that he shared very few physical traits with him. The eyes would be the most obvious and she knew they would drive her husband to being suspicious of her.

Of course, by the time he thought to act on those suspicions, he would be dead.

The clock on the wall struck the time and Luka turned to look. A slight smile crept to her lips as she set the sleeping child in the cradle once more. Almost absentmindedly, she leaned down and gave the child a soft kiss on the forehead before she headed out of the room and softly closed the door behind herself.

Moving as quickly and silently as possible, she made her way to the back of the house. There wasn't any particular reason she needed to be quiet – the muffled sounds of her husband's nightly activities were already ringing through the house – but she always found it wise to be more cautious than necessary.

As she stepped out onto the lawn, she quickly took a sharp turn right and headed to the servant's housing not far from the house. Her heart was beating like crazy within her chest and she couldn't help but mentally chide herself. She was a grown woman; there was no reason for her to be this excited. However, no matter how many times she reiterated the words to herself, she couldn't stop her heart rate from spiking and it only grew worse as she stopped outside of the door he always let her through. She had to wait but a moment before the door was opened and his silhouette filled the doorway.

"You're late."

"So it would seem. If it bothers you so much I'll just return to my bed for the night and wait for my husband to come claim me," Luka responded as a mischievous light filled her eyes.

"You can go back if you want to. I would prefer if you didn't."

Luka's smile spread slightly at his words. That was probably the closest she would ever get to him admitting that he wanted to spend time with her. Part of the reason she had fallen in love with him was because she enjoyed the challenge of trying to pull those few words of affection from him.

"I think the prospect of your company is far more enjoyable than that of my husband's," she responded smoothly before he moved himself from the entryway and allowed her to enter into the room. As soon as Luka stepped inside, she began to unlace the back of her corset. Within moments, it fell to the floor and for the first time that day Luka took a full breath.

"I hate this damnable thing," She grumbled to herself as she kicked it away with a rough kick for good measure, "Why does the Butterfly Class consider not being able to breathe such wonderful mark of class and importance?"

"Don't know. I've never been a part of the Butterfly Class."

"Well true, but you've been living here for about four years; you must have some sort of insight into the situation."

"I don't."

He was lying and she knew it. Perhaps he thought he was clever enough or her stupid enough to hide his activities, but she picked up on everything he did. The way he would linger slightly longer than necessary when her husband and one of his associates were having a conversation in the garden; the way he would gently prod her for questions about the next big social gala she was required to attend; the fact that he had allowed this relationship to progress to the level it had – all of it pointed to him being intimately interested in the coming and goings of the Butterfly Class.

The only thing she couldn't quite figure out yet was why.

She had her guesses, but she was far more interested in having solid, concrete proof.

"Well enough of this," She said with a dismissive wave of her hand, "I didn't come here to discuss the finer points of corsets with one who has never worn one."

"I wasn't interested in it either."

Suddenly, she's in his embrace and she feels her heart flutter in her chest. Now that her lungs are no longer restricted, oxygen rushes to her brain and only increases the sensitivity she has to his touch. She closes her eyes and just enjoys that feeling of him holding her.

"My, you seem quite eager today," She teases lightly rubs at the arms that encircle her, "To what do I owe this pleasure."

"I haven't seen you for two weeks."

"Really? From what I recall I just saw you the other day when I asked you to trim the edges of a rose bush that had grown out of its designated spot."

"You know what I mean."

Luka gave no response this time as she felt him begin to gently comb his callused fingers through her hair, causing her to close her eyes and simply enjoy the feeling of him being close to her. It always amazes her how someone with such a rough and cold personality could be so gentle. The two of them are silent for several minutes before Yuuma speaks up.

"How is he?"

He doesn't need to clarify who he's referring to; she already knows.

That annoying pang of guilt rings once more through her chest.

"He's fine," She replied as she pushed the guilt away, "He had a fit not that long ago but he calmed down once I stared rocking him to sleep."

"Your husband's going to realize soon."

"I'm not a dullard; I'm fully aware of the situation."

"You have a plan."

It's not a question, it's a simple statement of facts.

"Of course I do," She responded smoothly as a dark grin flashes on her face for a moment.

"You're not going to tell me what it is."

Luka was about to make some sort of witty response, but any words she may have wished to say were abruptly cut off as Yuuma spun her in his embrace and pressed his lips to hers. The suddenness and roughness of the situation no longer surprised Luka and she allowed herself to give into the warmth of intimacy that was becoming dangerously important in her life.

* * *

><p>Falling in love hadn't been part of the plan.<p>

Of course, his plan wasn't meticulously planned out like he knew Luka's to be; he didn't matter what kind of steps he had to take or how many years it took. As long as he reached the same end goal, he would accomplish his mission.

But love made things…complicated.

If he hadn't fallen in love with Luka, he would have completed his mission and left several years ago. But the longer he spent time with her, the longer he found himself unable to leave.

Then the child had been born.

Luka continued to assure him that the child was his – according to her he had his eyes. Plus, she kept insisting that she had her ways to ensure that her husband would be unable to lie with her. Of course, he had never been given the privilege of seeing the child; he was simply a lowly gardener and the child was to one day rule over everything that could be seen for miles around.

Sometimes when he didn't see Luka for weeks on end, he began to doubt if the child was his.

Falling in love had brought him nothing but trouble.

However, as he watched her breathing deeply as she slept a few minutes before he would have to wake her and send her back on her way to the house, he couldn't help but feel that falling in love had been a good thing. It was always these few minutes of seeing her completely unguarded, completely vulnerable, that reinforced why he had grown to love her so much.

Love complicated his plans, but he would be willing to make amends for her.

Of course, he didn't know if she was willing to do the same. Would a woman who had been scheming her entire life suddenly stop because of him?

He had no answer to that question. Perhaps he was just a pawn in her plan. Perhaps his desires to save her from his revenge plot were stupid and would only end up killing him in the end.

Perhaps she never loved him and never would.

The possibility had crossed his mind so many times before and each time he supplied himself with the same answer.

So what?

He loved her and he would protect her, even if it ended up costing him his life. He wasn't going to lie to himself or pretend that his feelings for her didn't exist.

"Luka," He said her name quietly as he laid one of his hands on her bare shoulder, "You have to go now."

The woman next to him stirred and turned to glare at him. Her face that had been so serene mere moments ago was suddenly harsh.

"I don't want to suffer through the torture of having my lungs systematically crushed once again," She said, her voice dead serious.

"You have to," her responded simply as he stood from the bed and began to gather the clothing that had been haphazardly thrown about the room in their desire to get to the bed. By the time he managed to cloth himself, Luka was already beginning to lace up the corset that she so despised. He moved to help her, but she quickly waved him away.

"You always tie it wrong. My husband's begun to take notice and keeps asking me if I'm feeling unwell on the days when I let you tie it. Best to keep suspicion to a minimum."

Rather than argue, Yuuma simply nodded her head and waited for her to finish before he led her to the door. There were no long goodbyes or heartfelt wishes for a speedy reunion; she simply bid him goodnight and headed back towards the manor.

He watched her go until the night completely swallowed her.

Falling in love had made things so much more complicated.

* * *

><p>This was it.<p>

This was the day she had been planning for; dreaming of.

After today, she would finally be free.

Heart pounding in her chest, she slowly removed herself from the bed she shared with her husband and began to gather a few necessities. Finishing her work in a few brief minutes, she headed towards the door and paused at the threshold for a moment to stare at her husband. He had had a bad day, so he had been particularly rough that night; she could already feel the tell-tale ache of forming bruises.

She had always hated him.

As a form of a parting farewell, she spit in his direction before slipping out the door and giving him no further thought.

She made her way toward Yuuma's quarters, allowing her subconscious mind to carry her as she gently rocked the bundle that she carried in her arms.

Taking the child was a stupid idea.

It wasn't in the original plan.

However, she found herself unable to leave him behind and as the planned day of their departure drew ever closer, she knew that her son would be coming with her. Somehow over the days it was simply no longer a question; he would be coming and that was that.

She stopped outside of Yuuma's door, but this time instead of inviting her in, he was already standing outside waiting for her. The only form of greeting the two of them shared was a strained smile before Luka gently handed the bundle she carried to Yuuma. Surprise crossed his features for a moment as he looked down at the child that had suddenly been placed in his hands.

"Meet your son," Luka couldn't help but tease lightly before she turned and began to lead the way towards the secret entrance she had used so many years ago to meet with Yuuma for the first time. She took the time to glance behind her to find Yuuma following her while staring intently at their son. Despite her best efforts to steel her heart for what she was about to do, she couldn't help but feel a warmth in her chest.

If nothing else, at least she had allowed Yuuma to hold his child before he died.

The journey took a large portion of the night and by the time they reached the entrance, artificial daylight was beginning to fill the dome. Wasting no more time, Luka placed her palm on the wall and began to type out a series of dots and dashes – the code had cost her quite a bit of coin when she had bought it all those years ago, but that seemed insignificant now.

As she finished the code, the door slid open and she motioned for Yuuma to head in first. He grimly nodded before he tightened the grip he maintained on his child and headed through the entry way. Luka followed quickly behind before the door closed, plunging them into complete darkness.

This was it.

In approximately twenty seconds, the tunnel would end and they would be outside. He would walk out in front of her and before he even had time to turn around and look at her, a bullet would be lodged into his brain and he would be dead. She would leave the child there to rot and she would move on with her life – her new life.

The gun in her palm felt heavier and heavier as their footsteps slowly lead them towards the end of the tunnel. Soon, she could see his silhouette, an image she had seen many times before when she had gone to visit him.

Falling in love hadn't been part of the plan.

How long had she been planning this?

She had already screwed up once; there was no more room for error.

She had to stick to the plan.

The tunnel abruptly ended and Yuuma stepped out into the landscape. Luka's arm raised as she pointed the revolver at his head.

"Bang."

That one sound.

Then silence.

No screaming, no crying; just deafening silence.

"…You know, this was the part where I was supposed to kill you."

"Yeah, I know."

"I was supposed to kill you and then escape to start a new life, free from everyone that had ever known me. I wasn't going to ever have to wear a corset again."

"Yeah, I know."

"If you knew, then why did you agree to go with me?"

"There are two reasons. First, because I could still complete my goals either way."

"Ah, right, there mysterious goals of yours that you told me about all those years ago. I still haven't quite figured out what they are. So what's your second reason?"

"I love you."

"…Do you realize that's the first time you've ever actually said that to me?"

"Yes."

"You also realize that I still have a gun in my hand and could very easily kill you, right?"

"Yes, but you're not going to."

"Oh, and what makes you so sure of that? I've done a lot of things to achieve my goals; one more death in the tally wouldn't be that terrible – well, two if you count the child."

"You won't because you love me also."

There was silence for a moment and Luka looked at the back of Yuuma's head. She had the perfect shot; the gun was already cocked and his death and her freedom was only a trigger pull away. She felt a wide smile creep its way onto her face as she tightened her hold on the grip of the gun.

"Guess I'm a lot worse at making grand plans than I thought," She finally conceded with a self-deprecating smile as she allowed the gun to drop to her side. It was only at this point that Yuuma turned around and did something truly bizarre.

He smiled.

It was the briefest flash across his face, but it didn't escape Luka's gaze and she felt her heart pound against her ribcage. In all the four years she had known him, Yuuma had never smiled.

"I suggest you start running."

The sound of Yuuma's voice woke Luka with a snap as she watched him begin to run away. Although confused as to why they were running, she followed suit. He confusion was answered in a matter of minutes when she heard the sound of and explosion and felt the ground shake violently beneath her.

She turned around and for once she could not hide her emotions.

The Butterfly Garden – her home – was burning to the ground. A large part of the dome had collapsed in the initial blast, but everything else that was not destroyed was suddenly in flames. Luka could do nothing but gape. Everything she had ever known had just been blasted away. She saw Yuuma stand next to her out of the corner of her eye; their child, who had been woken by the explosion, was crying loudly and flailing in his arms.

"…This is your grand plan?" Luka asked, speaking above the wailing.

"I was married when I was nineteen. I loved the woman I married. My wife was taken away to be one of the workers at a farm in the Butterfly Garden. I hadn't heard from her for a year, so I used some contacts to get information about her. Turns out she was one of your husband's mistresses."

"But…why didn't you find her and escape?"

"Before I could get to her, she became pregnant. You know what happens then."

Luka nodded her head slowly. Instead of having to deal with birth rights and the messy business of inheritance, Moth Class mistresses were simply disposed of before they became a problem.

"So if you just wanted to destroy everything for your revenge, why did you agree to help me with my escape plan?"

"I told you, I fell in love with you."

Luka finally pulled her eyes away from the flaming wreckage of a life that she had never wanted to live to look at a man that she was never supposed to fall in love with. He was still staring at the flaming city as he absently bounced the still wailing child in his arms. Luka looked at him for a moment longer before a wry smile passed onto her face as she took the child from his arms.

"You make for a terrible father. You were making him more upset tossing him around like that."

"Sorry," Yuuma replied, finally removing his gaze from his flaming handiwork to look at the woman standing in front of him, "I've never had to make a baby stop crying."

"Don't worry, you have quite a bit of time to learn how to handle it correctly."

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Terribly sorry for any mistakes (as I'm sure there are some); I'll edit it when it's not ridiculous hours of the morning. Also, what did you guys think? I have mixed feelings about it as a whole...


	19. Mikuo x Mizki

**A/N:** My sleep schedule is so messed up.

Do you all realize that the month in which I said I wouldn't be posting anything has ended up being the month in which I've probably posted the most? I should say I'm not posting anything for a month more often...

Thanks so much to these people for being generally awesome and giving awesome reviews: I My Me Mine, Ten-Faced, and princedwardriveria. You are all very nice to me and it fills me with gushy feelings of happiness.

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><p>Song: Positive Vibe - NIGHTkilla<p>

Couple: MikuoxVY1-Mizki

* * *

><p>THUMP<p>

She had to hear that. This time there was no way she could have missed the sound; it was just blatantly obvious, right? It was a loud, obnoxious, ugly noise that would draw anyone's attention. In a few seconds, she would come through that door, find him in the crowd of people and drop this whole overblown, gaudy charade.

Not only was it what was going to happen, it was the _only _thing that made any sense. There was no way the moment could go any other way.

However, seconds ticked by into minutes and she still didn't emerge from the door. He began to fidget nervously. Had she simply forgotten? Was she simply running late? Had their time together truly meant so little to her? All the possibilities were repulsive to him.

It was an important day – it was _the_ day – and she chose to continue her nasty habit of being constantly late. Under normal circumstances, he would have simply shrugged it off with an almost wistful smile; it was simply the way she was, there was nothing he could do to change that. But today he wouldn't let her off easily with just mild admonishing.

No, today was the _one _day he had expected her to be on time.

Today was her wedding day after all.

Wasn't it a bride's duty to ensure that she was on time for her own wedding? The concept crossed his mind that she may have gotten cold feet and changed her mind, but he quietly dismissed the thought. She had been planning this wedding, laboring over it, for the past several months, there was no way she was going to drop out now.

The part of his brain that was still thinking rationally quickly informed him that she wasn't late at all. The organ situated in the corner of the church was still droning out the welcoming music for guest as the last few stragglers took their seats. Unfortunately for him, he had been waiting for her to show up for what seemed like hours, causing any sense of time he may have had to abandon him long ago.

He continued to tap out the seconds on his wrist as he stared at the large, wooden doors at the back of the cathedral. His palms were sweating with anticipation as his eyes scanned every detail of the door for what must have been the thousandth time.

THUMP

Shut up! He doesn't want to hear it! He doesn't want to hear it! He doesn't need the reminder!

THUMP

It was his heart beating once more, drowning out all sounds and thoughts in his head. _Surely _she heard that one. Surely everyone sitting in the congregation had heard the loud thud of his erratic heartbeat. However, no one stared at him or even bothered to give him more than a precursory glance.

They were too fixated by the door at the back of the cathedral.

He realized that the sound he had heard wasn't his heart, but rather the sound of the doors being opened. While he had been busy listening to the unending droning of his heartbeat, the organ had begun to play the strains of the bridal march.

If she didn't show up now, she would definitely be late.

However, for what he assumed must have been the first time in her life, she was perfectly on time. As he took in the image of the woman in the doorway, he slowly released a breath he wasn't even aware he was holding.

THUMP

No.

No.

No no no no no no no no no!

It wasn't happening! He could go back to the fantasy! The noise just needed to stop…if it stopped…if it stopped then the twisted dream would end! It would end and he would be free!

THUMP

To put in bluntly, she was radiant.

As she began to make her way up the aisle, he kept waiting for her to look his way; to make any sort of connection with him. Seeing her again brought about buried memories – her smile, her laughter, her eyes; everything he had ever loved about her bubbled to the surface and refused to be denied. The desire he felt to hold her once more was almost a physical ache.

Her long, black hair that usually hung down her back in a neatly maintained and manageable braid had been styled elegantly and speckled with white and pink flowers. Her dress covered almost every inch of her body and hugged her slim frame, flaring out at the bottom into a pink and white gradient. Even though a veil obscured her face, he could tell that her eyes were glittering with anticipation and her lips were curled into a soft smile as she blushed in slight embarrassment over being the center of attention.

She was the perfect image of a blushing bride.

Except for that one thing – that one, damnable thing.

He couldn't look anymore.

THUMP

The noise was too loud! The pounding in his head wouldn't stop; it relentlessly assaulted him and gave no chance for reverie. It just needed to shut up! It just needed to stop! No more, no more noise!

THUMP

He wanted to hear her voice; he wanted it so badly. If he could just hear it one more time before the possibility was gone forever.

If he could just hear it one more time…

_"Mikuo…"_

"Mizki…" He responded quietly to the specter in his memories as he lifted his eyes from the floor.

He wanted to see the Mizki of the past.

Instead, he saw a radiant bride begin to slowly make her way down the aisle.

An eerie hush, a sound completely unfitting of a wedding celebration, fell over the crowd. The only sounds that broke the alien silence were the organ puffing out the bridal march and the telltale creak of gears working and wheels turning.

Despite it being decorated with large flowers and ribbons, it was impossible for all of the harsh, metallic parts to be covered. Every time one of the uncovered parts caught the light, he felt guilt run like magma through his veins. He could tell the guests were doing their best to ignore it, but everyone knew it was a futile effort.

All eyes were on the wheelchair rather than the bride.

Mikuo wanted to scream as he watched her father wheel her slowly down the aisle. This wasn't how it was supposed to go! She was supposed to be able to walk down the aisle under her own power! This was her big day! This was her wedding!

THUMP

Why was he here?

There was no way she actually wanted him to be here. It was impossible. Impossible! There was no reason for him to be here! He was just a hindrance on every innocent person in the room!

And the noises; her presence only made the noises louder! No! He would go back! There was still a place where everything was perfect! If he could just stop the noise! If he could just find silence of that one moment!

It was all he needed! All he needed!

THUMP

That was right. He was a blight. He was the reason that her wedding couldn't be the perfect fairytale she always gushed about.

_Whose fault is it that she can't walk?_

THUMP

His! He knew it was his fault! He didn't need the pounding in his chest, in his mind, in his psyche, to remind him he had screwed up! He knew it! He knew it! He had destroyed Mizki's chance to walk down the aisle; he had destroyed any chance she had of ever walking again!

No more walks through the park! No more days spent idly window-shopping in the small downtown! No more running or jumping or walking or even standing!

He had stolen that away from her!

Why wouldn't the noises stop?! Why were the torturing him?!

THUMP

It had been so stupid. The two of them had wanted to spend their evening date doing something 'different' something 'unique' to celebrate their year and a half anniversary. They somehow ended up at a club where she spent the night dancing and he spent the night engaging in the newly obtained privilege of legally drinking; by the time they left, he was barely able to stand.

Of course, he insisted he was fine. He got behind the wheel and she hesitantly climbed into the seat next to him.

He didn't even see the headlights of the oncoming traffic as he swerved into the wrong lane. The only reason he was aware anything was wrong was her scream that tore through the night. He remembered being agitated with her at the time; didn't she understand he had to concentrate on his driving? How was he supposed to do that if she was screeching in his ear?

The truck hit them at full force and her scream abruptly cut off. He was grateful that she had shut up; he could succumb to the soft lure of sleep that had been attempting to claim him for the past few minutes.

He awoke the next day in the hospital. The only things the doctors would tell him was that she was still alive, but she was teetering on the edge. Her fate could be decided in the next few hours.

That accident happened more than two years ago.

She had not regained her ability to walk.

He had once overheard the doctors say that she never would.

THUMP

It was all his fault!

THUMP

The clicking stopped.

The wheelchair containing Mizki came to a stop at the head of the cathedral. It was only at this point that he realized she hadn't looked for him in the crowd as she was rolled down the aisle. She had stared straight ahead, eyes locked on the man she was about to marry. He didn't blame her – couldn't blame her – who would want to remember?

Underneath the fine dress and underneath the smile, she was covered with hundreds upon hundreds of scars.

He was the one who had caused those.

The organ stopped playing and everyone fell quiet as the minister began to intone the words that would bind the two of them in matrimony. Even though she was confined to the wheelchair and, as a result, significantly shorter than him, it didn't seem to faze her. She scooted in her chair slightly so her head rested gently on his lower arm.

It was all his fault she was paralyzed, it only made sense that she no longer loved him.

It only made sense that she was marrying someone else.

THUMP

No.

No, it was a lie!

This wasn't how it was supposed to happen! He needed…he needed the dream back!

The noises!

The goddamn, fucking noises!

THUMP

He suffered minor injuries compared to her; some broken ribs, a smashed up nose, a broken hand; little more than bumps and bruises compare to what she had been through. She had been sober when the car hit so of course she tensed up in response, which only made the situation worse for her.

'Completely paralyzed from the waist down, serious lacerations on most of her body, and some severe chemical burns from fluids leaked from the battery; her lungs were also punctured by her ribs,' he had overheard a doctor once say.

As he lay in the hospital bed recovering, he found himself wishing more than once that he had simply died in the accident.

However, shortly after the two of them had been admitted to the hospital and she had exited emergency care, she began to ask for him. Never directly, the doctors wouldn't allow her to leave his room, but she always tasked some nurse or another to ask Mikuo if he was going to visit her.

He could never do it.

A few times he made it as far as outside her room, but he could never take the final step to open the door and see her. What would he do if she hated him and only wanted to see him to tell him off? He knew what he had done to her had been horrible, that he deserved no forgiveness, but he couldn't stop himself from loving her.

If she didn't love him back, what would he do?

Instead of confronting his problems, he ran away.

He didn't care where he ran, as long as it was away from wherever Miziki was – he had to remove any possibility that he would see her again.

If she didn't tell him to his face that she no longer loved him, he could entertain the gilded illusion that she might still harbor feelings for him. He could continue to bury himself deeper and deeper into the sweet illusory world he had constructed for himself.

He had never loved anyone named Mizki – that had been some sort of long, drawn-out, fevered dream. If she never existed, there wasn't the possibility that she hated him.

If she never existed, all he had to remember was the good parts. Every dream has "bad" parts, but since it's not real, it's perfectly understandable if you just ignore those parts. People don't expect you to take ownership for what happens in your dreams.

Yes, it was all just a dream.

He could just remember the good parts of the relationship – the sweet kisses, the warm embraces, the meaningful smiles. All the dark noises that lingered at the edge of his memories could be pushed away and forgotten.

When he thought of her, there was beautiful images and beautiful silence.

And it had worked; for two long years, he could pretend that everything was still normal in his life. Whenever he thought of her, whenever he thought of the empty place in his life that Mizki had once filled, he simply drowned the truth by burying himself deeper into the lies he had constructed to carry him through the day.

THUMP

Running away was the only option! Running away was the only thing that would allow him to maintain his sanity!

Why couldn't she understand that?! Why did she have to be her sweet, kind, altruistic self?! It was all her fault! It was all her fault that he couldn't continue to live in a perfectly constructed fantasy.

The sound was driving him crazy! The rushing of his blood, the pounding in his head and in his chest, the voice of his inner guilt; all of it orchestrated a perfect cacophony of emotions that made it almost impossible to concentrate.

Just stop!

Was this her way of punishing him?! Was this her way of getting revenge?!

THUMP

When the invitation arrived, he did nothing but stare at if for a few long moments. He had sorted it out from the rest of his mail, causing it to sit by itself on the kitchen table. It was white and delicate, with a pink pastel flower in the corner and a small, petite ribbon on top.

Everything about it reminded him of her.

All those years of building fantasies came crashing down with the arrival of that one simple piece of mail – that one piece of mail that he never hoped to receive.

He picked it up with trembling hands and simply stared at it for a few moments, not comprehending the words written on the page. It was a real physical object; it had weight in his hands, he could feel the slightly coarse texture of the paper beneath his fingertips.

But there was no way what he was seeing was real – no way.

He wasn't sure how long he stood there before he read the words; before he finally submitted himself to the reality.

"You are cordially invited to the wedding of Mizki…"

THUMP

Yes.

That was the first time the noises started.

It had to be her revenge! It just had to be! There was no way that she invited him to the wedding because she still had fond feelings for him! She hadn't even looked for him as she was pushed down the aisle!

Did she mean to gloat, to rub it in his face?

That had to be the truth!

It was only after the invitation that the noises started rushing in!

The noises…the noises…the noises!

THUMP

He couldn't bring himself to read any further on the invitation; he didn't want to know who she would be marrying. His eyes just kept scanning those first words, as if attempting to make them untrue via repetition.

…The wedding of Mizki…the wedding of Mizki…

She was marrying someone else. She had fallen in love with someone else. She had made the decision to spend her life with someone else.

He wasn't sure why he replied to the RSVP.

He wasn't sure why he traveled back to the town where the two of them had met and fallen in love.

He wasn't sure why he showed up two hours early for the wedding reception.

He wasn't sure why he was watching the woman he still loved marrying someone else.

He only knew that he couldn't tear his eyes away.

She was smiling now, looking up at the man who was to become her husband.

THUMP

Don't smile! It makes the noises worse!

Why are you happy?! Why don't you hear the noises?! Why did you bring me here?!

I hate you!

I fucking _hate_ you!

THUMP

The preacher was reaching the end of the necessary rituals as the two turned to face one another. Mizki's groom dropped to his knees so they were eye to eye, causing her face to light with a smile in response. Mikuo watched as the two of them exchanged vows. He could feel his breathing quicken as the ceremony began to approach its inevitable end.

Suddenly the pastor was saying the words – the words that would bind the two of them together forever.

The words that would forever put her out of Mikuo's reach.

THUMP

I still love you!

Please don't!

I know, I know you sent the noises! Please just make them stop! Make them stop!

Please Mizki…I love you…I love you…

Please…

THUMP

"Ah, could you please wait for a moment."

The pastor stopped suddenly as Mizki's voice filled the room. Mikuo felt himself inhale sharply at the sound – it was just as he remembered.

"What is it my dear?" The pastor asked as he knelt down next to Mizki.

Rather than answer, Mizki turned to look meaningfully at her maid of honor who stepped forward with a smile. Confusion was displayed on everyone else's faces as the young girl knelt down next to Mizki and draped her arm around the bride's frame.

The next thing that happened caused all noise in the cathedral to halt.

Mizki was standing.

While it's true she was leaning heavily on her maid of honor, she was standing on her own two legs.

"I want to be standing for the exchanging of the vows," She said simply, "I want to show everyone that I'm alright now and they don't have to feel bad for me anymore. I can do this; I _have_ to do this."

THUMP

Everyone had to hear that! It's so quiet there's no way it escaped notice!

Why is she saying that?! Why?! You're talking to me, right?! This is why you invited me here, right?!

I can't hate you!

I can't love you!

Why Mizki! Just tell me why?!

Why is it okay?!

The noises are still there!

It's not okay! It's not okay!

I…I…I…

THUMP

"I do."

Her voice was assured, not a moment's hesitation.

"You may now kiss the bride."

He lifted the veil delicately and for the first time from his seat in the audience, Mikuo was able to see her face.

There was a large, angry scar running from her forehead to the top of her ear

The more he saw her, the more he would be reminded.

The stillness lasted for only a moment as the two of them closed the gap. The room erupted into cheers, but soon even that sound was drowned out by the rushing in his ears. He knew there was screaming, he knew there was noise, but he only heard silence – painful, dreadful, false silence. The newlyweds soon separated and turned to face the crowd of cheering individuals, Mizki leaning heavily on her now husband.

Her eyes instantly found his.

She smiled.

It was a smile tinted with sadness; it was a smile tinted with apologies and forgiveness and everything Mikuo didn't want to see.

All he could hear was the myriad of sounds that assaulted his brain. Before they had been nothing but disjointed, unimportant noises, but now they were working themselves into something noticeable; into memorable, painful, crescendo.

It was the sound of her scream.

It was the sound of her scream right before the truck hit them.

THUMP

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Nebulous ending? Nebulous ending.  
>P.S. If I sent you a PM, don't be alarmed. I received your response (if you gave one) and have taken note of it. I'll probably end up rolling out those chapters in the days before Christmas so they can be like little presents to you guys.<p> 


	20. Yuuma x SeeU

**A/N: **Merry Christmas Eve (to those of you actually reading this on Christmas Eve)! In honor of the holiday, I present you something that has nothing to do with the holiday spirit. Hm...honest question: do you guys think I should do a quick bonus chapter to celebrate the Christmas holiday?

Anywho, this is the first in my series of gift-fics to the people who are awesome and have helped me continue this story by consistently reviewing! I'm not doing these in any particular order; its honestly whichever song I get inspiration for.

Note to Yi: I know you love K-Pop. I'm not a big listener to it (or pop music in general), but Xiah Junsu has played roles in some of my favorite German musicals. So, I thought that was probably the closest I could get...I'm really sorry!

I want to thank each and every one of you wonderful people who have reviewed since the last chapter: yiseunggi, Ten-Faced, princedwardriveria, TheNextAlice (x2!), VY2, Yumiko Kaguya, Lapis Kagamine.

* * *

><p>Couple: VY2-YuumaxSeeU<p>

Song: The Last Dance - Xiah Junsu

Dedicated To: yiseunggi

* * *

><p>SeeU.<p>

How many years had he been watching her? It must have been at least five years, although it was probably more. No matter how many times he tried to divert his attention from her, he always ended up coming back.

A smile that started as a tiny smirk and quickly spread to dominate her face; laughter that was situated deep within her belly and could be brought about by the mildest provocation; eyes that glittered with childish delight at even the most mundane day-to-day events. Everything about her spoke of life and vibrancy.

The existence of such a radiant individual hadn't escaped his notice, but it wasn't until she entered into high school that his attention was snagged effectively. She was transitioning from a child to a woman and everything about her was suddenly increasingly interesting. That was when he began to watch her and follow her.

The longer he watched her, the more involved he became in the fate of this one insignificant speck of life, the stronger the burning in his chest grew. The sensation was something completely foreign to him; where there had been nothing for the longest time, there was suddenly something. The more it festered, the more the meaning became clear.

He loved her.

He wanted to own her.

He wanted to hold her.

He wanted to kiss her.

He hated her.

He wanted to smother her light.

He wanted to make her as hollow as he was.

He wanted to see her suffer for ignoring him.

These emotions were things he had never felt before and he wasn't sure whether he wanted to drown further in them or flee as fast as he could. The decision was impossible for him to make – it stirred nothing but frustration in his chest every time he was forced to dwell on the dilemma.

So he chose to watch, forever hovering in the shadows just outside of her vision. He watched as she flitted from activity to activity, as she moved through her high school years and began college. The more she continued to grow and experience life, the more conflicted his feelings continued to grow. The longer he stared at her, the more he felt like the tension would snap his rationality.

Then she entered her second year of college. The event itself wasn't significant, but it served as a marker. The day was drawing ever closer.

October 21.

The days seemed to spill together into one unidentifiable mass of anticipation. October 21st would be the day when not only his reality would change completely, but so would SeeU's.

And suddenly, the day was upon him – no more waiting, no more anticipating.

He watched with baited breath as the last few seconds before seven in the morning ticked away. Right on cue, the sound of a sugary pop song began to blare from SeeU's cellphone for several second before she managed to stumble through her state of half-sleep and turn off the alarm. Like every morning, she dragged herself out of bed and began to sleepily prepare herself for the day.

If she knew what was going to happen, how would she react? Would she still go about her sleepy morning routine at an attempt at normality or would she try to run away from the fate being shoved onto her? He had no answers to these questions, but he enjoyed imagining that she would whimper and ask for longer time – he wanted to watch fear break her strong and resilient will.

The rest of the day progressed slowly and mundanely. SeeU went to classes, chatted with friends, finished up last minute homework. It was all so perfectly normal that he couldn't help but feel the anticipation build in his chest as hatred and love battled for prominence. However, all the excitement came crashing down as he watched SeeU stand outside her literature classroom, looking expectantly about her.

He already knew exactly what she was waiting for; he felt hatred boil from within the pit of his stomach as he waited alongside the positively beaming young woman.

"Sorry, did I keep you waiting long?" A male voice sounded nearby, which caused SeeU to perk up her ears and her smile to spread even wider.

Even just the sound of the voice drove him to grind his teeth together in rage.

"No, don't worry!" SeeU responded cheerily as she turned to face the sound of the voice, "I just managed to escape from the stuffy clutches of classic British literature."

"Then we're in the same boat; I just managed to escape the stupid clutches of physics." As he spoke, he pulled the petit girl into a strong hug. SeeU melted into the embrace and eagerly returned the intimate action, her arms wrapping around him as she giggled softly.

"Why in the world are you a physics major?" She asked teasingly. It was a question she asked often and already knew the answer to, but delighted in asking anyways.

"I said it was stupid," he responded as he always did, "I never said it was difficult."

"Oh right. How lucky I am to have such a smart fiancé," She stated, just as she always did.

"Not as luck as I am to have you, I can promise you that."

The boy who was forever unnoticed watched this entire exchange as he had many times before. Usually, he was able to brush it off – it didn't matter what men she chose to spend her time with or whom she chose to marry, in the end she would be his – but today it was different. This was supposed to be the day where he was finally able to lay claim to the light that had managed to elude him for so long. Today she was supposed to be exclusively his.

The knowledge of what was about to happen next only made his hatred and indignation burn hotter within the pit of his stomach.

Like always, the two of them drew slightly out of their hug before the locked eyes and smiled in perfect unison. Then, as if moving as one entity, the two of them closed the gap between them and pressed their lips together. The kiss was never overly long, but it was filled with all the warmth and positive feelings the two maintained for one another.

The boy watching wanted nothing more than to rip the two of them apart and make it so they could never see one another again. He wanted to kill any love and admiration SeeU had for her fiancé. She belonged solely to him; she needed to not only understand that, but to live it every day.

As the two lovers drew apart, SeeU once more nuzzled her head lovingly into his chest, which caused her fiancé to laugh. SeeU finally released her hold on him as they interlaced their fingers. The two of them walked out the building, chatting lightly to one another without a care in the world.

He was left alone, languishing in the shadows of her happiness. The only thing that gave him solace was that soon it wouldn't matter; soon, there would be nothing but darkness in her life and she would belong to him. With this thought as his only comfort, he followed after the two of them as he waited for the moment he knew was coming.

* * *

><p>"Well, looks like I have to go now," SeeU said with more than a tinge of sadness to her tone as she stared at her hand intertwined with her fiancé's. She stood like that for a few seconds before he came forward and tipped her chin up so she was looking at his face. The radiant smile that greeted her forced her to smile back.<p>

"Oh come on, it's not that big of a deal. I just have to go to work for a few hours and you just have to put up with those stuffy British authors. I know it'll be difficult for both of us, but you're a tough girl, I'm sure you can handle it."

"I don't know," SeeU responded as a mischievous light lit in her eyes, "I might just be suffocated by the stuffiness."

"Then I promise I'll drop everything I'm doing and come to your rescue."

"Don't make promises you can't keep, I might just hold you to them."

"Who said I can't keep the promise?"

"…Good point. Knowing you, you might just be enough of a dork to actually make good on that promise."

Not allowing for further discussion, he pressed her lips to hers and the two of them closed their eyes as they pushed against one another. This kiss lasted slightly longer than the one the two of them had shared earlier. However, instead of burning anger, the boy watching simply felt sickly sweet satisfaction. Soon, SeeU would fall into his hands and the two of them would never be able to share these sweet moments of intimacy.

He would win.

The heady feeling of satisfaction overtook him as the two of them separated and SeeU headed back to her dorm. He was quick to follow; he didn't want to miss a moment of these next couple of hours.

It wouldn't get eventful until 8:32 when SeeU would make the decision to walk to a nearby supermarket to get a snack to help her through her study session. As the minutes ticked away and the hour drew closer, his feeling of satisfaction bubbled within his gut and made him giddy with anticipation. It was almost time. In a few hours there would be no escape for her.

Tonight, she was going to die.

Tonight, she would need him.

Tonight, she would desire him just as he desired her.

The thought so excited him that he almost missed when she stretched and glanced lazily at the clock on her desk.

8:32.

He's seen this moment so many times before. He's watched her last few steps before death claims her an untold number of times and now that the moment was here, it seemed unreal. It felt as if he was watching a show put on to appease him as the main actress made her timely escape.

But there could be no mistaking her. The young woman walking purposely through the back alley that serves as a short-cut between her dorm and the supermarket was SeeU. She was taking her last few living steps and she wasn't even aware of it.

"Don't move."

He's too far away to actually hear the man mutter these words in her ear, but he's seen the scene enough times that he's already memorized the script. Right on cue, SeeU noticeably stiffened and made an attempt to turn around to see her assailant before her actions were cut short by a gun being pushed to the side of her head.

"Don't turn around!" The man declared, slightly louder this time, "Don't turn around you bitch!"

"Okay, I'm not turning around," SeeU said in a voice that she tried valiantly to control, but was obviously shaking with fear.

"Yeah, that's right, just don't turn around and, and do what I say!" At this point, the man moved his gun away from her temple to rest on her back.

"Do you have any money?"

"Some."

"That'll have to do. Hand me your wallet and don't try anything funny! And, and your cellphone!"

The robber couldn't see SeeU's face, but the observer could. He could tell that she was searching desperately for a stupid mistake that she could take advantage of in order to escape. Unfortunately, there's none present, so she reached into her pocket and drew out her wallet and cellphone before handing them to the man behind her. At this point, her face changed - now that the man had what he wanted, she thought he would get sloppy and her opportunity would present itself.

She was wrong.

"Good, good," The man muttered to himself as he shoved her cellphone into his pocket and opened her wallet to looked through the contents, "Now, don't say anything. Don't turn around."

The man's steps retreated for a few seconds before silence fell in the alleyway. This was the moment. This was the moment he had waited for all these years. He knew that the silence was about to end and he couldn't be more excited.

POP

POP

THUD

He had seen people shot before. He had seen people bleed to death on the pavement. He had seen every sort of death imaginable; it was simply a part of his reality.

But this time it was different. As he watched her lie on the pavement, the mixed emotions in his chest reached a frenzy pitch. If she died, she could be his - he could touch her, hold her, love her.

Walking far more slowly than the storm of emotions within his chest demanded, he moved to where she was writhing on the ground. In the time it took him to reach her, she had managed to drag herself a few inches closer to her dorm, but her energy had run out and she rolled onto her back, gripping her stomach. He stopped just outside of the pool of blood that was rapidly collecting around her soon-to-be corpse. Maybe it was the familiarity of the situation that caused him to approach the situation as coldly as he did.

It was time for him to do his job as Death; it was time to claim her life.

He brought his hands to her throat and began to push down. At this point, she wasn't close enough to dying that he could actually interact with her, but he didn't remove his hands. Instead, a saccharine smile spread on his face as his fingers hovered on her flesh. He was close! Soon she would be him.

Suddenly, there was flesh underneath his fingers. His heartbeat spiked in his chest as he pushed down on her throat, crushing her windpipe. SeeU made a strangled gargling noise as he watched her eyes go wide with what he assumed must have been shock. It was an expression he saw often; no one expected a skinny young boy to show up suddenly when they were dying.

"You're...choking me...stop..."

The voice was so quiet and weak that it almost escaped his notice. The only response he had was to push harder on her windpipe.

"Its your time to die. Its my job to kill you," He stated simply as he continued to smile down at the girl pinned beneath him.

"You don't...get to...kill me..." She rasped out, "I'm...I'm...going to...get to safety..."

The defiance in her voice caused him to let up the pressure slightly and it was his turn to be shocked. Was she actually defying him? Was she trying to escape a death that had been ordained for her since the first day of her life?

"You're wrong. You're going to die," He stated bluntly as he once more resumed his work. This time, he lowered his lips to her own and pushed down softly. This was the final step in killing a person; he would draw the last drips of life from her lips and he would claim her as his own. At his touch, he felt her begin to squirm and kick beneath him. His only response was to push harder on both her throat and lips.

There were hands on his chest and suddenly he was pushed back by unexpected force. He stumbled backwards and looked down in shock at SeeU. Her face was ashen and her chest barely rose with each shallow breath she took, but her eyes burned with sparks of defiance.

"...Fuck...you..."

He dropped into silence for a moment before he did something completely unfitting for the situation.

He began to laugh.

The sound was harsh, cold, and completely mirthless. He fell to his knees once more, hovering his lips once more over SeeU's. He knew that she had used the last of her energy to push him away and was now completely at his mercy. The last of his laughter died out as the two of them locked eyes.

There! That fire of defiance! That was the things that caused him to hate her! That defiance! That refusal to give in!

"You think you're so strong," He hissed through clenched teeth, "But you will always come back to me. You can run to your fiancé but he won't be able to save you. There will be no escape for you. You will be mine."

No words escaped her lips, but the defiance in her eyes echoed her earlier declarations.

With a twisted smile, he once more pushed his lips onto hers.

* * *

><p>Everything burned. Her lungs, her arms, her stomach.<p>

But mostly, her lips.

How many hours had passed? How many days had passed? She had no idea. Her mind had been plunged into darkness and the only thing she could feel was the fire coursing through her veins and centering on her lips. No matter how she tried to erase the feel of his lips from her own, she remembered his eyes staring into hers before he claimed her lips once again.

She couldn't even begin to untangle the mess of emotions in those dead eyes.

Did he hate her?

Did he love her?

Which one disturbed her more?

Through the unknown amount of time she suffered through the pain, she searched for the answers and found nothing. Instead, she was simply left alone to wander through everything by herself.

Then one day, the darkness was simply gone. She opened her eyes and above her saw nothing but white. Any color besides black was so beautiful at this point that she almost cried.

"SeeU!"

At the sound of his voice, she did start crying.

Even though everything hurt and burned, she embraced him as tears ran freely down her face. He tried to get her to calm down and rest but the effort was futile; now that she had found him once again, she wasn't letting go.

"Please," She mumbled into his shoulder, "Don't you ever, ever, _ever_, scare me like that!"

"I scared you? You do remember that you're the one who got shot, right?"

"I don't care! I just...I just..."

Coherent speech escaped her as she dissolved into a crying, shaking mess. It was only at this point that, despite her injuries, her fiancé embraced her in return. As she cried like a child, he gently stroked her hair and mumbled soft comforts into her ears. Eventually, her tears stop and she looked up at his face. A weak smile crossed her face.

This was the point in their ritual where there were supposed to kiss.

He picked up on the cue and although a wry smile crossed his face, he began to close the distance between the two of them. Quickly mimicking his actions, she also drew closer. It was something they did every day and the familiarity brought her comfort.

Just as their lips were about to touch, she saw his eyes.

Those eyes that were so tortured. Those eyes where love and hate were so perfectly mingled. For a moment, everything in her world went dark once more and the heat burned through her body; the heat that she could now gather the name for.

Passion.

Interest.

Desire.

The hesitation lasted for no more than a second before she closed the gap. Her lips bushed against his with bruising force as she tried to erase the memory of the dark stranger. She wanted to feel nothing but the lips of the only man she would ever love.

Until Death, do we part.

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><p><strong>AN:** ...This chapter was so difficult to write. I've listened to a lot of different artist's rendition of The Last Dance and one thing that really stood out about Xiah's performance was how legitimately frustrated he sounded. I really wanted to attempt to capture that...which made writing the ending difficult and I ended up rewriting the entire thing about three times. I'm pretty sure I'm not satisfied with it still, but if I don't stop now I'll never post this thing...

Also, who do you think Yuuma was in this story; the one who will have SeeU in life or in death? You may have noticed that I never named either of them.


	21. Akaito x Haku

**A/N: **Hey look, it took me till chapter 21 (and to have someone request one) to write a song based on a Vocaloid song. Oh, I remembered what i forgot to say. Look to the author's note at the end of the chapter if you want to read what I forgot!

A HUGE thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter: I My Me Mine, Ten-Faced, yiseunggi, TheNextAlice, ByakurenLolita. You guys have untold levels of awesome in your system.

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><p>Couple: AkaitoxHaku<p>

Song: A Tale of Six Trillion Years and One Night - Vocaloid IA

Dedicated To: Ten-Faced

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><p>Please…please…please…<p>

Believe me.

I'm not crazy.

I'm telling you I'm not.

That's why I'm here, right? That's why I haven't been allowed to touch alcohol, right? You want me to "straighten up" and give you the true story, right?

But everything I've told you is true. Every. Last. Word. The only reason I only told people the story when I was drunk was because that's when I was the most miserable; that's when I felt that I couldn't hold it in any longer or I might burst.

Now I'm not drinking and you've got my lying on this couch. You want me to tell you the truth; you want me to stop spouting insane stories and tell you what happened.

I can't because what I've been saying is the truth.

It's just that no one believes me.

I can't really blame them; I think if someone told me the story I wouldn't believe them either. But…but it's real! It's true! Every word!

You…want to hear the story? You'll…listen without doubting me or looking at me like I'm crazy? You'll…really do that? …Can I really trust you?

Will you…believe me?

…I guess I have always wanted someone to listen…but where should I start telling my story?

Do I remember the very beginning? Of course I do…it was one of the most terrifying days of my life…it was the last time anyone spoke with me until I woke up once more in this world. Those words…I can still remember those words…they ring so loudly in my ears every night before I lie down in bed.

"You're not allowed to sleep."

Spoken barely above a whisper, those words were the first anyone ever said to me when I woke up in that world. However, it wasn't the first thing my fuzzy mind latched onto. What I noticed was the cold, uncaring concrete floor beneath my body. This sudden change from the warm sticky summer air I had been experiences moments ago shocked my system awake, causing me to look wildly about me.

The concrete I felt beneath me covered every part of the room and even extended beyond it. There was no furniture in the room, so I wasn't able to identify what kind of room it was supposed to be. The second thing I noticed were the walls of the room surrounding me. They weren't covered in the pretty floral wallpaper that my mother loved to use. In fact, these walls looked nothing like any home I had seen before. They were steel bars, surrounding me and holding me against my will. Perhaps it was because I had just been dropped out of normality into this strange world, but at the time I couldn't process that the room I was in was a cage.

It was only after my evaluation of the room that I turned my attention to the words that had just been said to me. At first, they meant nothing to my six-year old brain: I wasn't allowed to sleep? But…I'm a human and humans can't live without sleep…right?

"No…sleep?" I remember mumbling, my voice coming out as little more than a rasp, "But what about when I get sleepy?"

"You won't."

I hadn't been expecting an answer, so I'm pretty sure I gasped aloud as I turned towards the sound of the voice.

My cage was surrounded by a sea of people. I swept the crowd for anyone I might know, but everywhere I looked I was met with blank, unfamiliar faces.

Unfamiliar faces in a crowd that was completely silent; they didn't even seem to breathe as they concentrated on their attention on one object.

Me.

No…it wasn't so much that they were looking at me, but rather directly through me to the dark, disgusting parts that hid underneath.

I suddenly felt both self-conscious and frightened as I attempted to escape from the strangers' gaze by backing away. My back eventually pushed up against the cold bars behind me, causing me to turn around in surprise.

It was the exact same scene on this side; people staring silently at me. I wanted to run back to the middle of the cage so I would be as far away as possible from all the people, but fear froze me in the spot.

I was completely and utterly trapped. There was no escape.

Everything was still as they stared at me and I did my best to hold back my frightened whimpers. My breathing made an odd rattling noise in my chest as I waited for something – anything! – to happen.

Salvation came in the form of an old woman stepping away from the crowd and closer to where I was standing.

A soft smile colored her lips as she quickly closed the gap between the two of us and stopped mere inches from the bars of my cage. Her face was heavily creased with age and her loose-fitting clothing reminded me of something my own grandmother would wear. For some reason, her appearance incited comfort in me and I felt a weak smile tweak the corners of my mouth as I pushed my fingers through the gap of the bars in an attempt to reach out and touch her. I wanted any form of comfort, any form of familiarity and human warmth that could be given to me and I was convinced this grandmotherly figure could give it to me.

…We think some stupid things when we're a frightened child.

The moment my small, admittedly grubby, hand touched the hem of her shirt, her smile faded and her eyes grew hard and dead. My hand recoiled as if it had been bitten by a snake.

"Welcome little one," She said in a voice as cold and dead as the concrete beneath me.

"…Welcome?" I repeated, only because I didn't want the conversation to end. Even though her face was no longer warm, she was the only person in this crazy situation that was willing to speak with me. I clung to that desperately, as if it were the only think keeping me afloat. To my relief, she opened her mouth to respond.

"Yes, welcome, dear goddess. We thank you for creating us. Know that we will always believe in you, always worship you."

Any relief I may have felt at having to speak with me quickly fled as I registered the words. 'Goddess? Worship?' But before I could voice these questions and the million others that flew about in my head, she did something truly bizarre. Even with everything I had seen in the past few minutes, I wasn't prepared for this.

She fell to her knees in deep prayer as she held her hands to the sky. Even more surprising was the fact that the crowd surrounding my cage followed her lead. Within moments, I was surrounded by a crowd of kneeling subject.

There was total silence.

That was the last time I would ever be gifted with the complete absence of sound.

The next moment, the crowd flew into a flurry of activity as they removed themselves from their bowed positions. They began to sway slowly from side to side; the effect was almost hypnotic….and then everyone started speaking at the exact same time. It was a chant that rang loudly through the air, reverberating against the nearby buildings before it hurtled towards the sky. The sound rang in my ears, making it impossible for me to identify the words. …Now I realize exactly what they were saying.

"Hail, hail our goddess! Creator of our world! Savior of all!"

A welcome to their goddess.

A welcome to their slave.

A welcome to me.

After that they began to file by my cage and simply stare at me for a few moments before passing by, continuing their chant the whole time. Some of the women were crying. A few of the children attempted to reach out and grab the bars before their mothers swatted their hands and hurried them away. Young people whispered in awe as they held up what appeared to be cameras and I was blinded by flashes.

The processional continued on and on for what felt like hours. The longer it went on, the more frightened I became. I wanted out; I wanted to be back home; I wanted my mom. Tears began to stream freely down my face as I buried my face in my hands and wept loudly. No one stepped forward to calm the fears of a six year old child; instead they simply kept passing by.

Suddenly, the tone of the crowd completely changed. Where there had once been reverence and awe, there was scorn and hatred. I lifted my still tear-stained eyes from my hands, terrified that their anger was directed at me and they were about to do something horrible to me. 'Is it not okay for me to cry? Did I make them angry? I…I'm sorry! I'll apologize as many times as it takes!' My mind was so flustered at the time that it took me several more minutes to realize that they crowd wasn't looking at me anymore.

The boy with the flaming eyes and hair…that was the first time I saw him.

He had chains wrapped around both his arms and legs, giving him only enough freedom of movement to shuffle despondently after the man leading him. The heavy chains scrapped against the ground, adding an eerie whine to the angry sounds of the crowd. I couldn't see the boy's face, but I could see the faces of the people around me. All of their features were twisted with rage and some of them even spat as they glared with such hatred that it made me light-headed with fear. The anger only swelled as the boy and his handler drew closer to my cage; eventually it escalated to the point where people started throwing things. Several items struck the boy on the head, but he neither faltered nor slowed.

It was only when he stood directly in front of my cage that he finally lifted his head.

Since I had awoken in this strange world, I had experience bizarre occurrence after bizarre occurrence to the point that it was almost too much for my six-year-old mind to process. What I saw on that boy's face only made everything worse.

He was smiling.

It wasn't a smile of pity, nor was it one of compassion; instead, it appeared to be nothing more than twisted glee. Apparently one of the thrown objects had hit home, for he had blood trickling slowly down his face; it only made his smile all the more frightening.

The two of us simply sat there, staring at one another. Half of the crowd had taken up my praises once more and the other half continued to heartlessly belittle the boy. I was too frightened to take any form of action; my every mental process was focused on reminding myself to breath.

Then just as quickly as the boy had appeared, he was once more dragged away. His handler didn't even have to yank on the chain that tied them together – the boy simply left of his own volition. I watched him leave and, for reasons I couldn't understand at the time, my heart ached within my chest.

As my eyes followed the young boy, the crowd around me began to dissipate. Within only a few moments, I was left alone in a cage, situated (as I later learned) directly in the center of town. It was only then that legitimate panic began to set in. I ran around in my cage, screaming at the top of my lungs, waiting for someone to acknowledge me and let me out of the cage. When my voice had no effect, I began to bang on the bars of the cage and jump at passersby in an attempt to grab their attention.

'You believe in me, don't you?! Then I'm right here! Please, please, I need your help!'

Apparently, no one could hear my voice, because no matter how much I shouted, no matter how much I yell….

Nothing worked.

No one even looked at me out of the corner of their eye; it was as if I had become part of the scenery that was so common place that it could be harmlessly ignored. I eventually wore myself out and collapsed on the cold concrete floor beneath me as my tears ran freely down my face.

To this day I'm not sure how long I laid on that floor, sobbing to myself, but it must have been at least several days because I watched several sunrises and sunsets. I kept expecting sleep to grant me the gift of a few hours of black oblivion, but it never happened.

As the old woman had said, I wasn't allowed to sleep.

…You've stopped believing me, right? But everything I'm telling you is the truth, I promise! Every time I closed my eyes to even attempt at sleep, some alarm would sound in my brain, instantly waking me up. Voices inside my head that weren't mine whispered to me over and over again.

'You have duties you must answer to!' 'You can't sleep! If you do that, who will watch over all the people of this world?' 'Sleep isn't needed; the only thing you need to do is fulfill your obligations.' 'How will people believe in you if you're not always there for them to see?'

During the day, the hustle and bustle of the city kept me awake and at night the myriad of voice screaming inside my head kept me awake. As time continued to pass on and I was unable to escape from my reality of being held in a cage – not even able to escape into the realm of dreams – I became desperate. I needed, _craved_, confirmation of my existence.

They said they all believed in me, but they certainly didn't act like it. No one ever looked at me.

The only one who did that was the boy with flaming red eyes and hair.

I only saw him once a year…or at least I guess it was once a year; it's difficult to keep track of the days when you're not sleeping. It was always in the same situation; the weird festival that my captors and followers held every year. I guessed based off their vastly different reactions to us that he represented everything bad in the world while I represented everything good.

But I couldn't hate him.

I was envious of him.

He was the one they truly 'believed' in. He was the one who I would sometimes catch people whispering about. He was the one who truly existed in this world. While his red eyes shined brightly with energy, I'm sure mine were dull and listless.

Eventually, I became obsessed with the idea of the making him my friend. Maybe if we were friends, people would start to recognize me also.

Whenever I woke up and found the crowd of people staring at my cage, I would instantly begin to draft the conversation the two of us would have that day. My cage felt even more suffocating as I paced around and muttered the dialogue under my breath. Sometimes I went so far as to also write his responses so he would know exactly what script we needed to follow in order to be friends.

But no matter what I said to him, he never responded.

Any form of greeting, any form of banter, any form of begging; it all fell on deaf ears. Each time he would simply smile that maniac smile as he stared at me with those startling red eyes. Sometimes I really wanted to punch him for not playing along.

'You're the only one who acknowledges me! You're the only one who will look directly at me! I know you believe I exist, so why won't you respond?!'

I began to count my failures and as the continued to pile up, I tried to think up more ways that I could establish a connection with him. Finally, after failure number fifteen, I knew I had to take drastic measures.

I was going to reach outside of my cage and touch his face.

The feat which had once seemed to terrifying to even attempt suddenly seemed like the most viable option. I was no longer a frightened child; I would be able to do this.

So the next time when I woke up to the crowds staring at me, I felt my heart beat like mad in my chest. When he began to walk up to my cage, my heart was so loud it drowned out the sounds of the crowd. I realized that he too was no longer a child and his long, lean figure stood taller than several people in the crowd. I had wanted him to confirm my existence for so long…so long…I could do this.

As he stopped in front of my cage and began to raise his head, I stuck my hand through the bar and gently poked his nose.

For a moment, everything froze.

I retracted my hand in surprise. For some reason, I had half been expecting that my hand would simply phase right through him, that I had simply imagined this only person in the world who had acknowledged me.

But he was there, he was real.

As if woken from a spell, the boy raised his head like he always did. I feared for a moment that my touch had no impact on him and he was about to repeat the same ritual again, but what I saw on his face took my breath away.

He was crying as he smirked.

"…It took you long enough…" He said quietly in a voice that compelled me to draw closer to the bars that separated the two of us, "Do you know how long I've been waiting for someone to tell me I was a human and not some awful spirit that brings misfortune?"

'Yes, I understand! I know exactly what you're talking about! I've gone through the same thing! But…but we can confirm one another's existence! We don't need other people! We have each other!'

I wanted to say all that and more, but anything I might have wanted to voice was cut off by the feeling of his lips pressing against mine. I was so shocked that I opened my mouth to gasp, only to be rewarded with the feeling of something cold and metallic-tasting slipping into my mouth. I was too surprised to do anything but swallow the liquid.

This action caused the young man to instantly break the contact as I fell to my knees. He now towered over me as I stared blankly at nothing.

He had kissed me…I was a real person…I was alive…He had kissed me…

The joy at felt at these revelations swelled in my chest as I began to sob loudly. Suddenly, there were warm, strong arms wrapped around me. Even without looking up, I knew it to be the boy with the crimson eyes and matching hair.

I'm not sure how long the two of us sat there embracing before I realized there was something fundamentally wrong with the situation. I was in a cage. He shouldn't be able to touch me like this.

Confusion overriding the need to be held, I shoved myself out of his embrace and began to look frantically about me. What I saw was…nothing. Where there had once been people, where there had once been buildings, where there had once been sky…all of it was replaced with a black void of nothingness.

"The drug I slipped you is a powerful narcotic. Pretty soon you're going to fall asleep."

'Fall asleep? But I'm not allowed to…' The words were so clear in my head, but they didn't manage to make their way out into the real world

"That's why everything disappeared," He continued on, completely oblivious to my unvoiced questions, "You're the one who crated this world and when you wake up in the other one, this one disappears."

'But…no! No! I just had you confirm that I exist! Now…now I'm going somewhere that I don't know!"

"Sheesh, don't look so desperate," He said with a good-natured smile as he knelt down next to me on the floor and flicked me on the forehead…or at least that's what he intended to do…but his hand had already faded into nothingness. I immediately looked up into his face, but his eyes still glittered with life and his smirk hadn't faded at all.

"Don't worry," He told me sincerely, "We'll meet again once you're back in the real world. I promise you."

'Haku! Haku! My name is Haku! Please just say my name once! Please say the one thing that will prove my existence!'

Then everything faded away as the last strings of my consciousness slipped through my fingers. The next thing I saw was the sterile, white ceiling of a hospital room.

I had awoken from my fourteen year long comma.

…You know the rest of the story. I had minor fame for a time, but when people started to realize I was 'insane' they stopped caring. So I ran away to drinks…because when you're drunk it's okay to say crazy things.

But really, it's all true! I'm…I'm going to find him one day and thank him for everything he's done for me. I have to; he saved me from being trapped by my non-existence; he brought me back to the real world. So, so, so, it has to be real. If he's fake, who am I supposed to thank?

Who's supposed to prove that I'm real?

I just need someone to believe me. Please! I just need one person – one person – to believe my story. I just need one person to believe my existence!

The bottle is my escape…believing in me is my confirmation…

Please…please…please…

Believe me.

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><p><strong>AN**: So, since I gave a little "behind the scenes" thing for the last one-shot I dedicated to someone, I figured I would do one for all the chapters dedicated to people. Any who, for this chapter, it originally started when I listened to the song and heard just how much noise there was in the instrumental line; it made me think of something that would keep you up no matter how you tried to sleep, hence the "you can't sleep" idea. Then I picked up on the "知らない" ("I don't know") lyric and thought about how terrifying it would actually be to know nothing, not even that you actually exist. The rest of the story just...kinda came after I kept listening to it over and over.

(Overly long explanation done)


	22. IA x ?

**A/N:** Oh this chapter. For some time, I thought this was going to be the request chapter that gave me the most trouble. But then I sat down and listened to the song a couple of times and somehow this came about. Remember in the beginning of this collection when I would always talk about weird chapters? Yeah, this is one of them. Also, I remembered what I forgot to put in my author's note in the last chapter, but I edited it, so you're free to check back and read it if you so desire.

Note to Alice: I lurked around your profile to try to get a feel for what couple you might like. I hope that you're alright with this one!

You know what. It's a hassle to write out all of you awesome people who review consistently full names, so you all get nicknames now. Huzzah!

A million more thanks that I could ever give to these awesome people for their awesome reviews of general awesome: Riv (x2!), Yi, Ten-Ten. If you despise the nickname I just gave you, let me know and tell me what you would prefer...because really, I just picked the first thing that came to my sleep-deprived mind.

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><p>Couple: IA x ? (You'll figure it out by the end; don't worry)<p>

Song: Video games - Lana del Ray

Dedicated To: TheNextAlice

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><p>CHARACTERS –<p>

IA, _a girl just entered into sophomore year of high school; bookish and awkward in social situations_

YOUNG MAN, _in college; very prone to teasing; outgoing_

SCENE – _A main street in a small town. The buildings are old fashioned and closely packed together. The street is bustling with students due to the fact that school has just let out. IA is walking down the sidewalk on her way home from school. Her books are held tight to her chest and she shuffles along quickly. The Young Man, who walking on the other side of the street, suddenly looks up to see IA._

YOUNG MAN – (_excitedly as he waves his hand_) IA!

(_Startled__, IA looks around until she spots the Young Man. Surprise crosses her features before it melts into a slight smile. She quickly crosses the street so she is standing right in front of the Young Man_)

IA – (_slightly breathless_) Hello, how have you been? It's been…a long time since I last saw you.

YOUNG MAN – What's up with all this formal talk? Weren't we best friends when we were children? You've not gonna treat me like a complete stranger, are you?

IA – (_stuttering_) N-No, that's not what I intended to do at all! I just…wasn't sure how to greet you properly after not having seen you for so long. I mean, the last time the two of us saw one another, I'm pretty sure I was still half-convinced that you might have cooties.

YOUNG MAN – (_laughing_) You always did take everything too seriously. You just need to relax a little bit and talk to me like I'm a normal person. It's not as if you harbor secret feelings that get in the way of you speaking to me, right Aria?

IA – (_noticeably looking away_) Of…of course not. I see that you have no difficulties jumping right back into this relationship, what with calling me by the dopey nickname you gave me that's longer than my actual name.

YOUNG MAN – (_hooks his arm around IA's shoulder_) What can I say? I just happen to be good at reconnecting with people, especially if they're girls who have grown up as cute as you have (_pushes something into IA's palm_) Once you're done spending your time reading those silly books you've always liked, why don't you give me a call. It'll be a chance to…catch up.

(_With a carefree wave, he heads down the street. IA watches him go before she looks down at the piece of paper in her hands, then turns to the books clutched to her chest. She goes back and forth between the two of them, debating, before she drops the books onto the ground and excitedly begins to punch his number into her cellphone. She holds it to her ear as it starts ringing._)

(_Blackout_)

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><p>It wasn't as if I had consciously thought to escape into the realm of virtual reality. In fact, when I first opened my mail box to see something entitled "NEW FANTASY ONLINE MMORPG BETA OPPORTUNITY", every fiber in my body called for it to be deleted, simply due to the obnoxious nature of the unnecessary use of capital letters.<p>

But I didn't.

Maybe it was some weird sort of tick of fate. Maybe it was my inner consciousness realizing that if I didn't find some form of escape, I was going to implode.

Maybe it was my way of crying for help.

Whatever the case, instead of simply deleting it, I delved into it deeper. The inside of the e-mail was as glossy as they come, littered with bright images of mages and knights fighting against dragons. Typical fantasy stuff.

As I scrolled through, everything looked to be just your usual MMORPG fare. That is until one line of text caught my eye. It wasn't even one of the bold-faced titles that were intended to grab your attention. Instead, it was jammed into the end of the e-mail in the tiniest font possible, almost as if it was ashamed to be there.

* NOTE: Once a character avatar has been set, it cannot be changed in any way. Future improvements of the gaming engine may allow for further customization.

That one note was what brought me to the site and had me eagerly downloading the game. Within moments I was sitting at the character create screen. I was presented with the typical things, such as name, gender, and stats, which I was quick to fill out. Despite my best efforts to fight against it, I found myself modeling the character after myself, even being honest about my weight when it asked for it. As I watched the character on the screen look more and more like me, I inexplicably felt my excitement spike. I wanted to make the character a perfect representation of myself.

I ran into a snag when I had to come up with the name.

Sure, I could just punch random letters and let that garbled mess be my screen name, but I wanted it to be meaningful. If I was taking all this time to make this avatar look so much like my real self, I wanted it to be something that spoke about who I was. In this little world of fantasy, I wanted my name to be true to who I was.

The screen taunted me viciously as I stared at it and thought.

The more I thought and reflected the more muddy everything seemed to become. Trying to find the maximum-of-twenty characters that would define who I was seemed to be an impossible task. I was about to give up and return to the idea of randomization when some part of my brain must have signaled my fingers to move, because they flew across the keys. I allowed it to happen and watched as letters appeared on the screen. It was only a matter of moments before they were done.

OnlyHisAria

The second those words were on the screen, I wanted to take them back. However it seemed as if that same pesky part of my brain wanted to push forward with this completely idiotic idea, for I found myself finalizing the character and descending into this new world.

* * *

><p>CHARACTERS –<p>

ARIA,_ a young teenager who is a valley girl; a bit of a ditz; babbles without realizing she's annoying people; dating the young man_

YOUNG MAN, _in college; very prone to teasing; outgoing; dating Aria  
><em>

SCENE – _The time of day is directly before sunset. The air is warm and heavy with the heat that only comes at the end of a particularly warm summer day. There is a singular tree at the top of a tall hill. Attached to the tree is a home-made swing that has obviously seen better days. Aria sits on the swings; she wears a loose-fitting sundress that stops just above her knees; her hair flows freely behind her as she gently pushes herself on the swing. Her face is somber as she looks into the sunset. As the scene begins, the sound of a pickup truck can be heard, causing Aria to stand up. The sound soon stops and a young man steps into the foreground of the scene. He is wearing a ratty T-shirt and jeans with several rips in them. When the girl sees him, she runs down the hill and embraces him._

ARIA – (_speaking very quickly and excitedly_) Oh my gosh it's been so long! How have you been?! I've missed you so much! Did you miss me? I have so much news to tell you! We have to make up for all the time we've missed out on! This summer is going to be the best we've ever had, like, ever!

YOUNG MAN – (_gently removes the girl from him before giving her a full kiss on the lips_) I'm glad to see you too Aria. Can't tell you how much longer the school year felt without you there by my side. (_The young man hooks his arms around Aria's waist and nuzzles his face into her neck. This causes Aria to smile._) You smell great baby. God how I've missed this smell.

ARIA – You did tell me that you liked it. And, I mean, I just want everything to be, like, perfect for you. If it's not, can you imagine how much of a sucky homecoming this would be? I mean, (_Beat_) my gawd!

YOUNG MAN – Nah, with you here, nothing else matters. (_his hands start to explore Aria a little more freely_). Now that you're back here in my arms, I wouldn't want you to be anywhere else. I love you so much. (_His hands slip down the back of her dress. Aria responds by running her hands along his upper arms._)

Aria –_ (longingly) _I love you too sweets.

(_The two of them then climb into the Young Man's truck. The two kiss for a moment before sinking out of sight_)

(_Blackout_)

* * *

><p>Similar to using online games as an escape, meeting her had been a complete accident. Admittedly, it was a happy accident, but it wasn't as if I had planned it out. In fact, I was just running around, killing things at random when she walked up to me. I expected her to move on like all the rest, but she stopped to watch. Was she checking out my stats or something of the sort? Well since I had just dispatched yet another monster, I decided to return the favor.<p>

She was a pretty unassuming warrior class character. Mediocre stats. Mediocre character design. Mediocre guild position. In truth, nothing about her really stood out.

Except for her name.

Much like that first obnoxious e-mail I had received several years ago that so managed to grab my attention, this character's name was typed in all capitals. But that wasn't the most interesting aspect. No, what was interest was the name itself.

EMPTYHOME

…Was it some sort of cry for help? Was this random girl I had never met secretly crying out for someone to help her? I found myself wanting to believe that, even if the truth was really just that she picked two random words and jammed them together.

"Hello ^-^"

My musings were interrupted by her message to me, which was displayed across the bottom of my screen. I poised my fingers over the keys to pen a response, but apparently she was faster.

"That's an interesting name. Does it mean anything?"

Whoever this girl was, she certainly had nice grammar on the internet; she even capitalized and used proper punctuation. I could tell that this was the start of a wonderful friendship.

"Not particularly," I easily lied as my fingers flew across the keys, "I just thought it sounded kind of interesting and dark. XD"

"How about you?"

"Same here. Although, I also ran into the problem that I joined into this game kind of late, so a lot of names were already taken."

"How sad. Well, I'm to assume that you didn't stop me just to talk about names, did you?"

"Of course not! I was just curious if you wanted to run around and train for a bit. We're around the same level and bard characters are hard to come by."

"Sure, sounds like fun EMPTYHOME. ^-^"

"That's too long. How about you just call me…hm…Em?"

"How cute! Then you can call me Ari!"

Not Aria though. That was a name only open to him.

Rather than make any form of response, a box appeared at the center of my screen asking if I would be interested in joining EMPTYHOME's party entitled "Ari n Em". I instantly clicked the "yes" option, and about two seconds later, the two of us were all set to explore the wonderful world the internet had presented us with.

* * *

><p>CHARACTERS –<p>

ARIA, _a young woman who is a freshman in college; hard-headed and quick tempered; sings in a bar as a front for her work as a prostitute; dating the young man_

YOUNG MAN, _in college; very prone to teasing; outgoing; dating Aria  
><em>

SCENE – _It is a small smoky bar. A young woman is singing a song quietly in the background, her voice no more than a thin waver. The bar is littered with teenagers, some who are obviously not old enough to be there legally; several are deeply engage in one another; one young man is sitting by himself, staring intently at the young woman on stage. The song ends and the girl steps from the stage, revealing herself to be Aria, however it is not the same Aria from before. Her hair has been dyed black, her face is covered with dark makeup, and she wears skin tight clothing that leaves little to the imagination. She steps off the stage and instantly goes to the young man who has been watching her. She pulls him into a heavy kiss which is broken after a few moments._

YOUNG MAN – That was sexy babe. Why don't you sing more often? It's so hot.

ARIA – Oh shut up. You think you can tell me what to do with my life? (_gives a sharp smile before she grabs his collar and draws him toward her face_) Last time I checked, you were my bitch, not the other way around. I make my money the way I want.

YOUNG MAN – (_relaxed_) Whoa, calm down; don't mean to ruffle your feathers there. If you wanna whore yourself out to make ends meet, I'm not gonna stop you. Besides, this way things will be more (_grabs her butt forcefully_) fun when you come back to me.

ARIA – Oh you'd like that, wouldn't you? Let me tell you sweet cheeks, you'll be having the ride of your life tonight.

YOUNG MAN – (_smirking_) Hm, sounds like a good time to me …

(_Blackout_)

* * *

><p>"Do you ever think about meeting-up offline?"<p>

There was that question again. How many times had she asked me this in the three years we had known each other online? It wasn't as if I was opposed to the idea of meeting her – through my interactions with her, I found her to be a wholly delightful friend that I treasured more than life – but I was frightened about what she would think of me.

My face was still smeared with black make-up and my brown roots were beginning to show at the base of my black hair. I had just returned from a session with my boyfriend and was so desperate to get online and talk to Em that I hadn't even bothered to get out of the skimpy leather outfit I was wearing.

If Em saw "Aria", she would never want to be friends with me again.

She would deduce that I was a whore and a prostitute and want nothing to do with me. The idea of our online friendship ending because of the stupid decisions I made in reality terrified me beyond all belief. I didn't want the two of them to mix. If they did, Em would realize just how much of a liar I am.

She would realize that "IA" died a long time ago and "Aria" is too many people to count.

That was the last thing I ever wanted to happen. I wanted Em to know me as Ari, the bard who had a love of proper grammar, reading, and adventuring.

I wanted her to know me for who I really was, rather than who I painted myself to be.

"Sometimes," I typed back after an overly pregnant pause.

"Well then why don't we? I mean, you told me that you just started going to college at the school in my hometown, so there should be no problem meeting up! We could even pick somewhere we would both know, like the big movie theater right next to campus! ^-^"

Yeah, the big movie theater right next to one of the "bars" that I work at. An involuntary shiver of disgust ran through my system as I looked down at the skimpy outfit that barely covered me. I had to get out of it. Now.

"Hold on. I gotta go change. I'll be back."

I'm sure a part of me was simply running away from the question, but the longer I sat in this outfit the more dangerously close my fantasy world got to mixing with my reality. But as I began to peel the outfit from me, I couldn't help but wonder which one was reality and which one was fantasy.

Was reality where I had the same boyfriend for the past five years and I kept changing myself to please him?

Was reality where my best friend for the past three years was a warrior and I didn't have to pretend to enjoy being a ditz or being a dominatrix?

Stupid question of course. Only a child would believe that reality was found in the virtual world. That's right…only a child would believe that.

By the time I managed to hide away the leather outfit with the rest of the things I never wanted Em to know about and slip into loose-fitting pajamas, my computer had entered into sleep mode. Giving a slight tut of annoyance, I quickly woke it. I was about to let Em know that I had returned when I noticed something.

EMPTYHOME has logged out

The message was at the very bottom of my messages, but above it there was also a string of messages that I had yet to read. I scrolled up slightly so I could see the first one and felt my excitement spike.

"…If you don't actually want to meet Ari, it's okay. You can just tell me. I can handle it."

"Actually, that's probably a lie. I'm pretty sure you don't think the same way, but I really want to meet you."

"…Do you remember when we first met and you asked me if there was any meaning behind my name. I lied and told you no. In truth, my parents had just gotten a messy divorce and my older sister was torn away from me."

"For a time, it was just me and my mom (dad had custody of my sister) but then mom started bringing home guys. I'm glad, really I am, that she attempted to move on with her life, but every time I watched her interact with these guys, it was like she was someone else."

"Apparently she never found the right guy, because they stopped showing up at the house around the time I turned 13 and mom instead turned to alcohol. After that, the most interaction I had with my mother was helping her to make her way to her bed at night. I realize I'm just complaining, but I feel safe telling you this because…you saved me from my loneliness."

"When I named myself EMPTYHOME, I guess I was crying out for someone to help me…I talked to you that first day because your name was interesting. But you also told me that it was meaningless. I wonder if you lied too."

"…I'm not sure why I'm telling you all this when I haven't revealed the biggest secret about myself…yeah, there's something that I've been keeping from you for all these years. I know it's stupid, but I was worried our relationship would…change if you knew."

"I'm going to be outside the movie theater at 9 PM on Tuesday. If you want to meet, please show up. I'll be the one wearing the sailor's cap. I hope to see you there Ari. I truly do."

How much strength must it have taken for her to type all of that up? Even though I knew it was futile and she wouldn't receive the message, I typed back my response.

"You're right. I lied."

"I'll see you on Tuesday."

* * *

><p>CHARACTERS –<p>

ARI, _a young woman who is a freshman in college; bookish and awkward in social situations_

EMPTYHEART, _unknown_

SCENE – _The theater is small and run-down, with a few faded posters advertising movies that are obviously no longer showing. It is dark and the nearby street light is the only source of light. A few people linger about, but no one actually stops at the movie theater. A solitary figure leans up against the building with a sailor's cap pushed down over their eyes. Footsteps sound from offstage right. Ari enters and looks around. Her hair is an odd off-white color that obviously comes from attempting to strip her hair of several layers of dye. She wears the same clothing she had switched into for her gaming last night. She moves slowly towards the building, almost turning back once, and stops when she sees the individual in the sailor's cap. She approaches cautiously._

ARI – (_hesitantly_) Pardon me, but are you…Em?

(_There is a moment's pause. Ari rocks from heel to heel as she attempts to examine the person's face._)

PERSON – (_cautiously_) Yes…but my real name is…Oliver.

(_The person lifts their head and Ari can see them properly for the first time_)

She's…Em's…Em is a boy! She had been playing as a female avatar, but there was no mistaking it, the person currently staring at me is a boy. He looks to be a little bit younger than me, but he already towers over me. His face is smattered with freckles and he has fair blonde hair that looks like it's been ruffled one too many times.

And one of his eyes is covered by a bandage.

Suddenly everything I wanted to say to "Em" has left me completely. So this was the big secret she was talking about; "she" was in fact a "he".

Not to mention a rather cute "he".

The longer I stared at him, the more I felt my cheeks lite with heat. When was the last time that happened to me in reality? If I was being honest, I would guess it was before I even started dating my boyfriend.

"Please…say something."

His words pulled me from my inner monologue. He had taken the cap from his head and was kneading it restlessly in his hands. The one eye that I could see was colored with worry. If I were with my boyfriend, I would carefully choose the words he wanted to hear – in fact, that's what I had been planning on doing when I came to talk to "Em".

But in none of the scripts I prepared was Em a boy.

I was without a pre-programmed conversation for the first time in years.

It terrified and thrilled me in the same breath.

All I could think to do was say the first thing that came to mind.

"You're a boy."

Not particularly elegant, nor was it something I would have written as a starting point of this "real world" relationship, but there was no taking it back now. The words were already written on the page and I would have to wait for Oliver to answer because he also lacked a set of stock-phrases I could draw upon to complete the script.

The characters of my life were escaping from me.

"Yes I am…" He said slowly as her averted his eyes, "Is…that a problem?"

"Wha? No! No of course it's not a problem! Oh! I haven't told you my real name. It's IA, but you can keep calling me Ari if you want. I like your real name, it's cute. In fact I think you're kind of cute, so I guess I'm kind of glad that you're not a girl!"

The moment the words were out of my mouth, I wanted to take them back. Not only were they stupid, but they were also awkwardly worded and weren't moving the plot in the proper direction.

"Yeah, I think you're…cute too…IA..." The words were little more than a whisper, so I wasn't sure if I was supposed to hear them or not. The next few moments consisted of awkward coughs and averted gazes as both of us searched for the proper response to that.

"You…know how you typed up your story?" I finally ventured.

"Yeah," He answered quietly.

"You thanked me during it…and I just wanted to say…thank you to you also."

This finally broke the awkward tension as he looked up at me with utter confusion on his face, "What for?"

"My name, OnlyHisAria, is exactly what I was. I was nothing but Aria, my boyfriend's girlfriend. But you…you gave me a chance to be Ari and, by extension, IA…so…thank you."

Silence fell between the two of us once more and I felt my heart hammer in my chest. Had I said something wrong? Had I said something that would ruin our relationship forever? If this were one of my conversations with my boyfriend, I would know the answer already because I had already decided how the conversation would end.

With Oliver, I was just a hapless member of the audience.

"Can I…hug you?"

The question was so bizarre and unexpected that I found myself nodding before I even had time to form any other proper response. The next thing I knew, strong arms wrapped around me and nearly knocked the wind out of my lungs. As he continued to embrace me, I realized he was shaking – he was crying.

I should have told him to let me go.

I should have told him that I already have a boyfriend.

I should have told him that I'm a terrible person that he should never get involved with.

Instead, I was selfish. I allowed him to continue to hold me tightly in his embrace and I allowed myself to enjoy the feeling of being next to him. I allowed my arms to wrap around him in reciprocation as I felt tears began to slide down my own face.

No characters.

No scripted lines.

No emotional cues.

Just Oliver and IA, teaming up together to explore everything the real world had to offer them.

* * *

><p><strong>AN: **So the basics for this song came from listening to the dissonance between the lyrics and the subject matter. Honestly, the piano part sounds rather like a dirge with the large, clunky, and repeating cords, almost as if underneath her lyrics about "true love", the narrator is aware that she's "killing herself" to be with this guy. I wanted to capture that dissonant quality, so I decided to make her interactions in real life in script form (something so calculated and pre-set, even telling you what emotions to have) to offset the world of the video game where she speaks in first person (something so personal and revealing). ...I really hope I don't get in trouble for using script format for this story, because I would have no idea how to convey what I want without using it...


	23. Kiyoteru x Meiko x Kaito

**A/N: **Long time no see, huh guys? The reason for this is that I was stuck in a spiral of self-loathing where I hated everything I wrote. I proceeded to be a brat about it and received undeserved comfort/support from Mir and Skie Narkie, so I really do have to take a moment and thank them profusely. So...thank you two for everything! Thanks for putting up with me when I was both being a brat and going through a rough patch! You're wonderful and I don't deserve friends like you.

All that aside, this chapter is another one that uses a really weird narrative style. Also, I felt ridiculously pretentious while writing this...

All my love and all my affection goes towards these individuals who are awesome and need more affection than I could ever give them: Tina, Ten-Ten, knight of nights, Riv, Yi, and mairie-sama.

* * *

><p>Couple: Kiyoteru x Meiko x Kaito<p>

Song: 赤いコート (Akai Coat/Red Coat) - Suneohair

Dedicated To: I My Me Mine

* * *

><p><strong>0.0 Inches of Snow<strong>

I really should just keep walking.

In fact, the annoying voice of reason in my head is screaming at me to do just that; I have a meeting to attend with some of the bigwigs at the company. This meeting could be my opportunity – my one chance – to move up the corporate ladder and become the first female CEO of the company. It could be my chance to make history in a big way.

I'm aware of _all_ of that, but here I am, standing like an idiot, staring at that one spot.

He's not going to come back.

I've lost the opportunity to say goodbye to him.

It's all my own damn fault.

It shouldn't bother me this much.

Great, now I'm even sitting down in the spot that he once occupied. The water on the stairs is sinking into my clothing and soaking me to the bone. I've only sat here for all of two seconds and I'm already miserable. God, how did he manage to withstand leaning against this wall in the dead of winter?

…But now that I'm down here, I realize that I never actually sat next to him while the two of us talked. True, maybe I could have, but I was always busy, running off to work and breaking off our conversations mid-sentence. I never really took the time or energy to sit with him, even if only for a little bit.

I was busy – I still _am_ busy. I should give in, listen to that little rational voice in my head, and get on the train. I should be headed to work where I know my dreams lie. Yet the last time I did that, it was the wrong choice. And now it's too late to go back and fix the stupid, stupid mistake I made.

This view does nothing to improve my mood; from the ground, everything seems dirtier. All I see are peoples' shoes, the filthy street, and the occasional stray raindrop splashing onto the pavement. How in the hell was he able to go on and on about the beauty of the world when this was the view he saw every day?

If I pretend hard enough, it's like he's sitting next to me; if I pretend hard enough, I have the opportunity to connect with him.

If I pretend hard enough…

Maybe that's why I sat down.

Maybe I'm hoping that if I sit here long enough, he'll come back.

There goes the bell signaling that the last train is about to leave. Yesterday I made the decision to go catch that train. Today I'm asking myself what was the point. Sure, I caught the train – hell, I even got the CEO to perk up his ears and pay attention – but I didn't have anyone to share the news with.

He was already gone by the time I got back from work.

…That meeting's probably started by now. I'm probably screwing up everything that I've ever worked for by sitting here in this spot he once sat. All those hours upon hours of ignoring everything around me but work will go to waste.

Yeah, all of that's probably true.

But suddenly, it doesn't seem nearly as important.

Is this what you meant when you spoke about influencing one another? I can't help but wonder what influence I managed to have on you; the one you've had on me is obvious.

There is more to life than just working, isn't there?

Too bad you're not around for me to tell you that I've learned your fucking lesson. You succeeded in teaching me, so hurry up and take the congratulations I've got lined up for you. Come back so I can thank you.

"Are you alright Miss? Did you fall down and hurt yourself? I can carry you to the nearest hospital if you need me to."

Very funny. That voice, while identifiably male, definitely isn't him. But…he did take the effort to speak with me. Maybe I can talk back. Maybe I can start a friendship with him. Maybe I can actually take the lessons he gave me and apply it.

After all, this is just the beginning of the journey…right?

* * *

><p><strong>0.5 Inches of Snow<strong>

She could tell by the look in his eyes that there was something different about today. They weren't going to just engage in idle chit-chat for a few minutes before she rushed off to work and left him to whatever he chose to do with his day. Today was going to be something different.

For some reason, the prospect both thrilled and terrified her. Over the past few weeks, the two of them had grown increasingly close and she found herself getting drawn further and further into the conversations the two of them engaged into. However, she wasn't quite sure what he was going to tell her.

Was it good new? Was it bad news? She honestly couldn't say and honestly didn't want to guess. Instead, she simply approached him like normal and gave her customary greeting, which he responded to in kind. The odd look that she had seen in his eyes moments before dissipated as he gave a warm smile.

To her surprise, the two of them settled into perfectly normal conversation, each of them driving the conversation based on the whims of their fancy. The longer the normalcy persisted, the more she relaxed. She convinced herself that she had simply misinterpreted the look in his eyes. Perhaps she didn't know him as well as she liked to believe.

It was only when she checked her watch (more as a force of habit rather than actually needing to know the time) that the odd look in his eyes returned once more. The usual parting words died on her tongue as she waited for him to speak.

"I'm leaving tonight. By the time you get back from work, I'll probably be gone."

He spoke the words calmly, assuredly, and he continued to hold her gaze as he waited for her response. For a moment, her brain couldn't process what had just been spoken to her; he was leaving. After tonight, he would head back home and she would never see him again.

She was snapped from her state of complete shock by the gentle sound of his laugh. Hearing this only made her want to punch him – how could he be laughing when he had just revealed something so heart-breaking to her?

"You know if you don't leave soon, you're going to miss your train," He commented gently as he continued to look up at her from where he sat on the ground. Her eyes flicked to the steps that lead down into the subway before her gaze once more settled on him.

Everything froze as each awaited the decision of the other.

Would she miss her train to work for the first time for him?

Would he promise to break his rule of only staying for one season in each city for her?

The last bell chimed, informing everyone at the subway station that the train was about to leave.

"…Dammit!"

The word barely escaped her mouth before she was bounding down the stairs two at a time. She rushed through crowds of people, heedless of anyone she bumped into as she made her way towards the train that she took every morning. She slid into the door at the last moment and felt the train lurch beneath her feet as it began to speed towards its destination.

She shakily made her way down the aisle until she collapsed into a nearby seat. Her breathing came in ragged breaths and her heart thudded like crazy within her chest. When she looked down at her shoes, she was dully surprised to discover that the heel of her shoe had been broken in her mad dash to reach the train, and by extension her job, on time.

Silent tears began to inexplicably roll down her cheeks. She did nothing to stem them as she held the now broken shoe in her hand.

* * *

><p><strong>2.0 Inches of Snow<strong>

"…I can't believe I'm doing this."

"You're free to leave if you really want to."

"No way in hell. I found out a loophole to your little 'I'll miss my train to work' bargain by coming on a Sunday. I am not passing up the opportunity to hear this story now that I've wasted one of my few days off."

"You only have Sundays off?"

"More like I only have one Sunday a month off."

"That's…all you have off?"

"That and holidays. Of course, I wish I could just work through the holidays; why should work stop just because the country feels like celebrating stupid things?"

"But don't you spend that time with you family or with your friends?"

"No."

"That was a rather quick answer."

"You asked me a yes or no question; I answered with no."

"While that's true, most people go into more detail with their responses."

"Well I didn't and I have no desire to. Besides, you're just distracting the conversation from the main point of me being here. So what's your story?"

"First things first. If I'm going to be telling you my story, I only find it fair that you at least share your name with me, that way I'm not talking to a total stranger."

"Meiko."

"Do you always answer so bluntly?"

"If you keep asking questions that I believe only need a blunt answer, that's what you'll get. So what's your name?"

"Kiyoteru Hiyama. It's a pleasure to meet you Miss. Meiko."

"Yeah, yeah, pleasure's all mine and all that. Let's skip all the bullshit fake pleasantries and just get to the explanation, alright? If you're story isn't too terribly long, I can probably still get in a few hours of work from home."

"Well, I don't want to keep you from your job, so I guess it's best that I start."

"Took you long enough."

"The first thing that's probably important to know is that I'm happily married with two small children at home."

"Wait, you're married? How come I've never seen your wife or kids?"

"Because they don't live in this city. I and my family live in the rapidly industrializing city just over the mountains."

"Oh yeah, I've heard about that place – doesn't even have a proper name, right? The boss has been discussing the possibility of someday soon setting up a branch office there."

"If you want to do it, I suggest you do it now, otherwise some other company will come in and claim the market, leading you to the problem where you won't get enough return on your investments to break even."

"Listen to you! You sound like a regular investment adviser!"

"I'm just giving my opinion on the matter, considering I live there and know the market well enough to give an informed opinion."

"Is that so? Let me guess; you work for some company there?"

"Correct."

"What, nothing more than that?"

"If you're allowed to give blunt and simplistic answers, then I feel I'm entitled to some as well."

"Fair enough, but keep in mind that I want some serious discussion of this subject at a later date. With your insider information, I might be able to give the company a tip that will get the CEO to recognize my accomplishments and move me one step closer to my goal."

"I suppose that's only fair. For now, let's return to the story. So I'm married with two children. Unfortunately, my work tends to keep me out of the house a lot of the time; I was lucky if I managed to see the children two times a week. About a year ago, I came home early one night and we all actually sat down and had a family dinner. It's one of my warmest memories."

"Great, but what does any of this have to do with you sitting here day in and day out?"

"Well after that incident, I began to wonder if the way I was choosing to live life was the right way – I guess one could say it was kind of life a mid-life crisis. In that moment, I made the decision that I would travel to four different city, stay in the city for a singular season, and really connect with one other individual in the city. It's my hope that by the end of this journey, I'll have my answers I'm seeking."

"Wait a minute. Your mind jumped from 'it's nice that I can spend time with my family' to 'let me spend a year away from my family on a journey of self-discovery'?"

"I never said that my story was a good one."

"Yeah, it sure as hell isn't."

"But there you have it, that's my story. This is the last town I'm visiting before I return home in the spring."

"So from your story, I'm to guess that I've been singled out as the person you're going to connect with in this town."

"I didn't single you out. You're the one who spoke to me and you're the one who's standing here now, asking for my story."

"I guess those are all true, but don't get your hopes up; I just needed my curiosity filled for why a bum had a designer suit. Now that the question is answered, I don't believe I need to speak with you anymore."

"If that's what you wish, then I suppose I can't stop you."

"Damn right. Now if you'll excuse me, thank you for sharing your story with me. I doubt I'll be speaking with you again."

* * *

><p><strong>1.0 Inches of Snow<strong>

The click of heels on pavement and the general buzz of the subway station had become the meter that defined his life for the past several days. He had already observed the coming and goings of hundreds of people as they continued about their daily live. So far, however, none of them had stopped to speak to him. It appeared to be true that in this city, people were far too busy with their own lives to stop and bother with anyone else.

But he knew that wouldn't be the case for long. Sooner or later, someone would step outside of their comfort zone and reach out to him – he had seen it happen before and it would definitely happen here.

"Look, you've been sitting there for about two weeks now. I know you're not an average bum because of that designer suit you're wearing, so just what is your story?"

The voice that finally spoke to him was that of a young woman. Although he had never seen her face before, he instantly recognized her shoes; scuffed black heels that managed to make her a few inches taller. When he allowed his eyes to finally leave her shoes and venture to her face, he was greeted by a frowning young woman glaring down at him.

She had short and practical brown hair that was the exact same shade as her eyes. She looked to be in her mid-twenties and, judging by the business suit she wore, she was on her way to catch a train to work. She reminded him of several of the higher ranking employees he sometimes encountered at work.

In truth, Kiyoteru hadn't expected anyone like her to ever stop and speak with him.

Instead of allowing his surprise to show on his face, he gave a wry smile before he formulated his response to her question.

"My story's a long one. If you want to know all of it, you're going to have to miss the train that you have to catch to get to work."

The woman's response was as expected: she threw up ever defense she had as she eyed him warily. This was the moment of truth. Either she would walk away from him, or she would keep talking. Seconds dragged on into minutes as he waited for her to make the decision that would decide if he was simply a bum to be ignored, or if he was someone who was actually worth her time and consideration.

"You don't have to tell me your whole story, just tell me the part that has to do with why you're wearing a designer suit and hanging out at the train station like a hobo."

Kiyoteru felt his smile spread slightly as he gave an empathetic shake of his head.

"I'm sorry. I don't like skipping over important details when it comes to storytelling. If you want to hear it, you're going to have to listen to it all from the beginning."

Apparently that was not the response she was expecting, because the frown on her face only deepened and a spark of anger lit in her eyes.

"Listen here fancy suit," She said as her voice dropped down to a quiet monotone, "I don't have all day to be sitting her playing stupid games with you. I have work to attend and possible promotions to get."

"I completely understand that, and I apologize, but I can only tell my story in one way and the tale itself is rather long. If you want to hear all of it, you're going to have to miss your train. I hope that you understand."

Rather than give any form of response, she ground her teeth in quietly maintained rage before walking away, her heels once more clicking out her movement as she descended into the subway. Kiyoteru watched her go before casting his eyes to look at the sky above him. Gray clouds hung low in the sky, heavy with the promise of snow.

He couldn't know for sure that she would be back, people had spoken to him only once many times before, but he found himself wishing that she would be back. Maybe he couldn't make any huge, significant impact in her life, but if she would allow him to make the tiniest change, he would be able to go home with a light heart.

* * *

><p><strong>0.2 Inches of Snow<strong>

As I walk alongside the rough and well-worn gravel road that seems to wind aimlessly through the valley, my thoughts inexorably lead to my home – specifically, the wife and children I've left behind. I knew that when I set out on this journey, not seeing them for the entire duration of a year would be the most difficult part.

But now I'm so close.

I've seen spring; I've seen the young child who tries his best to smile and cheer up his parents despite his terminal disease.

I've seen summer; I've seen the old man who visits his wife's grave every day and has conversations with her that stretch on for hours and hours at a time.

I've seen fall; I've seen the teenage girl who works two jobs and yet still somehow makes time to take her little brother to the park every other weekend

And now it's come to winter, a season considered so bleak by so many. I really have to wonder just what kind of person I'll find this time. From what the woman I asked told me about this place, it's one of the most modern cities around – everything is high-tech and efficient. I wonder if the people are like that as well.

Considering I've just arrived at what appears to be the main thruway of the town, it would appear that I'm going to find out soon. It is true that the buildings are significantly taller here and everyone seems to be moving with decided purpose. I wonder if anyone will talk to me at all.

Well I can't really change my methods now. Time to find a suitable spot for me to take up residence. I don't think I would be able to enjoy living by one of these tall, glass buildings; they're far too unfriendly and say nothing about human warmth. Besides, I'll have to be returning to a similar building in a few short months.

No, I'll have to look for somewhere that's slightly more out of the way this time. It'll have to be somewhere where people will still pass me by, but I won't be forced to look at the constant reminder of the dreary life I left behind. The only thing for it is to start moving out from the center an-

That search went significantly faster than I thought it would. The steps that lead into a subway station; why didn't I think of this before? Although it might be cheating a little bit, I think I'll sit on a step that still allows me a view of the sky. Ah, there we go. I have now claimed my new home with my tiny view of the sky. If everything I see on the ground is really so unbearable, at least I'll be able to look up and indefinitely find a little bit of beauty.

However, I don't really believe that I'll have a problem finding something – anything – that's beautiful here on the ground. It may take some searching, but I'll be able to find it.

Ah, already I can feel the stares of people lingering on me. It's always the first day that I arrive that it's the worst. I wonder just how long it will take before someone talks to me. I wonder just how long it will take before I can share an experience with a total stranger. I wonder just what kind of relationship the two of us will have. The anticipation of waiting is always the most exciting and nerve-wracking part. I wonder what the two of us will take away from the exchange and how we'll shape one another's future.

After all, the journey's just beginning.

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><p><strong>AN: **If you couldn't tell, the story is written in reverse chronological order. The decision to do this came from how the song starts with 旅の終わりに (at the end of the journey). I thought it was interesting to start the story at the end of a journey, so I decided to go with it. And since it was talking about a journey, that got me thinking about all the different ways one can recount a journey: first hand and second hand. This lead me to deciding that each section would use a different perspective to reflect these different ways of telling a story.

As for the couple, the song itself spoke of "good-bye days" and such, but it didn't sound particularly gloomy; it was just another part of the journey everyone has to experience before continuing on. So I decided to use characters that were fully grown and had ambitions of their own. Relationships aren't what drives the story. It's the changes that this "journey" has had that I really wanted to focus on.

Long explanation and pretentiousness done.


	24. Kaito x Akikoloid-chan

**A/N:** Riv, I give you complete permission to hate me for how long this took. Also, I give you additional permission to hate me for how short this chapter is. I tried to write more, but it just didn't...work with the rest of the piece.

Shout-outs to awesome reviewers!: Riv, Ten-Ten, Guest-tan, knight of nights, Yi, and POKESPE-FAN. I am shouting as loud as I can! Do you understand just how much I appreciate and am humbled by the fact that you review!?

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><p>Couple: KAITO x Akikoloid-chan<p>

Song: Cosmic Love - Florence and the Machine

Dedicated to: princedwardriveria

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><p>Akiko is dead.<p>

I wonder if he realizes that.

The way he looks at me with those soft blue eyes, so distant and detached from reality, I can't help but think that he's not even aware of the passing of his sister. All he knows is that I look like her, I talk like her, and I act like her. All he knows is that because of all the factors being the same, this must equate to me being her. All he knows is that I am her carbon copy and, by default, that means that I am also her.

But I'm not her.

I stare back at him with my inorganic eyes, expertly crafted to flawlessly imitate the natural gift of sight humans are given. All I know is that the memories inside my head belong to a girl known as 'Akiko'. All I know is that these memories are not my own; I never experienced them and they never impacted how I developed as a person. All I know is that the memories are nothing more than movies – interesting to watch, but ultimately having nothing to do with my life.

I am not Akiko.

I wonder if he realizes that.

The way he looks at me with that dopey grin on his face, trusting and so innocently childlike, I can't help but think that he's not even aware that he created me. He probably doesn't remember the hours upon hours he spent staring at pictures of her, attempting to re-capture every detail of his departed sister's face via metal, hinges, and wires. He probably doesn't remember fashioning false memories from her life into the tangle of processes that serve as my brain. He probably doesn't remember weeping when he finished the robot known as 'Akikoloid-chan'.

But I do.

I attempt to smile back, my synthetic skin stretching under the strain of an action that is so easy for humans to produce. I remember how when I first came online, he embraced me and wept openly, telling me to never leave him again. I remember how he treated me like a real human being; setting a place for me at the dinner table even though it's impossible for me to eat, insisting that I 'get to bed at a reasonable hour' even though I require no sleep, speaking to me about the mundane things of life just like one would to any other human. I remember when Akikoloid-chan deteriorated into Akiko and when it deteriorated even further into'sister'.

It hurts to hear him say that.

I wonder if he realizes that.

The way he affectionately calls me by that name, each time his voice dripping with adoration, I can't help but think that he doesn't realize how it makes me wince in pain. To him, calling me by that name is a sign of affection. To him, calling me by that name will only bring the two of us closer together as a family. To him, that name exists as both a gateway and a barrier – he can love me as a sister but he can't love me as a woman.

But I don't want that.

I respond to him with a voice that is obviously produced via wires and chips rather than oxygen and vocal cords. To me, hearing the word 'sister' just reinforces what I will never be. To me, whenever he calls me by that name, he's no longer looking at me but is instead looking at his long dead sister. To me, whenever he calls me sister, he is reminding me how it's impossible for me to actually fill that role for him.

I love him.

I wonder if he realizes that.

The way he refuses to touch me for long periods of time, his soft flesh merely brushing against me, I can't help but think that he doesn't want to destroy the illusion. He has fashioned this robot to have all the memories of his sister, so I should be exactly the same as her. He has fashioned this robot so that it's impossible for a visual examination to reveal me as anyone but Akiko. He has fashioned this robot so perfectly that his broken mind is no longer able to remember that his sister is dead and I am not her.

But I remember.

When he's sleeping, sometimes I allow my cold, synthetic skin to come in contact with his warm cheek and for a moment I am able to pretend. I can pretend that the warmth that I am borrowing from him is actually produced from my own body. I can pretend that the sleeping face I'm staring at is the face of a lover rather than a young man who lost his mind long ago and now believes me to be his dead sister. I can pretend that he loves me just as much as I love him.

I will wait forever the opportunity to tell him.

I wonder if he realizes that.

The way he shuffles around, day after day, engaging in the mundane activities that humans are given the privilege of performing, seems to indicate that he isn't even aware that he's growing old. For him, time stopped when his sister died. For him, every day is a perpetual cycle of happiness because his sister is there and is exactly as he remembers her. For him, nothing has changed no matter how many years have passed.

But I know better.

I watch him grow older as my ageless body remains exactly the same; I look exactly the same as the very first day I was activated, or perhaps I should say that I look exactly the same as the day Akiko died. For me, time stopped on the day I was created. For me, every day is a perpetual cycle of watching him deceive himself. For me, everything but me has changed no matter how many years have passed.

He's dying.

I wonder if he realizes that.

He's dying.

He's dying.

He's dying.

I…I don't want him to die. I love him. Why can't my love save him? Didn't his love for his sister save her? Aren't I alive because of his love for his sister? I love him, can't I save him? Can't I save him? Can't I save him?

He's old and stooped now. His hair has turned a pale gray, but it still has tinges of the bright blue that used to dominate his head. His skin has wrinkled and his eyes look tired and worn. He is no longer able to move about easily; he now must rely upon furniture and other implements to keep him upright. Whenever I offer to help him, he simply waves me away without even voicing a response.

I am a robot.

I wonder if he realizes this.

I love him.

I wonder if he realizes this.

He's dying.

I wonder if he realizes this.

Days pass into weeks, weeks pass into months; I can do nothing but watch him as he deteriorates right in front of my eyes. He spends less and less time speaking with me, instead choosing to retreat into the sanctity of his own thoughts. The house is quite now. I can no longer remember the sound of his voice. I can no longer remember the sound of his laughter. I can no longer remember the young man that I fell in love with.

But I want to tell him.

The only mirror we have in the house is filthy, but I can see my reflection; I am greeted with young, taut skin, shining eyes, thin lips, rosy cheeks – a face that will never age. I have stood at his side for so many years, playacting at being his sister. I have stood at his side for so many years, pretending that what I felt for him was nothing beyond respect and admiration for my creator. I have stood at his side for so many years, telling myself that I would be happy if I could only be allowed to never leave his side.

He's…

He's…

He's…

Dying.

I wonder if he'll finally realize that I'm not his sister after he dies.

One day he doesn't stir from his bed. I stand next to him, expecting him to rise at any moment, but time just keeps stretching onward and he doesn't stir. His back is to me. I know it's taboo – I know that he hates it – but I have to check. My hand shakes as I place it on his shoulder and gently shake him.

There's no form of response.

He's dying.

He's dying.

He's dying.

Dead.

I can't die.

I can't join you.

I can't love you.

I can't.

I can't.

It feels as if all strength has rushed from my artificial body as I collapse onto the floor. My hand still grips his shoulder and I begin to realize that his skin has become cold. He died last night. He's no longer radiating the heat that indicates that he's a member of the living; he's no longer with me.

I climb into bed with him. His arms have not yet become stiff with rigor mortis – I force them to embrace me as I have longed for him to do for so long. I lay my head against his now still chest.

"Ba-dum…Ba-dum…Ba-dum…Ba-dum…Ba-dum…"

I can pretend.

I can pretend.

I can pretend.

You're holding me because you love me, right? You're holding me because you love Akikoloid-chan, right? You're holding me because this is what you've wanted to do for so many years, right?

Right?

Right?

Tell me I'm right.

I need to stay here forever.

I need your arms always around me.

I need you.

I need you.

I need you.

"Ba-dum…Ba-dum…Ba-dum…Ba-dum…Ba-dum…Ba-dum…"

* * *

><p>Kaito is dead.<p>

I wonder if she realizes this.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Okay normally this is where I would go into how the music inspired the one-shot, but for this one I honestly have no idea...it was just one of those songs where I listened to it over and over and somehow this came about. Music can be a rather mysterious inspirational source.


	25. Tonio x Miriam

**A/N:** For starters, let me apologize in advance because this author's note is gonna be obnoxiously long.

Well guys, we have reached chapter 25 of 100 which, according to my (usually flawed) math, means that I am officially 1/4 of the way done with this project! Huzzah! At this rate, it's only going to take me another approximately 3 years to finish...ha...

But anyways, to celebrate, I wanted to ask you guys a question: What have been your favorite chapters so far? Doesn't matter if you've read them all or only a select few, just let me know what you think! Also, you're free to give any amount that you want - top ten, top five, top 3...doesn't matter to me!

Also, I figure I'll join in the fun by listing my top five favorites of these one-shots. Now these aren't necessarily the ones that are "technically" the best; they're just the ones that I like most (and as a fun bonus, I'll include the title of the one-shot. Yes, all the one-shots have official titles that I haven't shared):

5. Ch. 13 - Oliver x CUL (A Clockwork Heart)

4. Ch. 14 - Dell x Lily (Circle of Perfection)

3. Ch. 5 - Dell x Yukari (A Rabbit)

2. Ch. 11 - Kaito & Yuki (Heartbeat)

1. Ch. 22 - IA x ? (Reality vs. Reality)

So there you have it, those are my favorites.

I have to give a million and a half thank yous to everyone that has reviewed and supported me: Riv, Juice (AliceUnderSkies13, that's the nickname I've decided on for you. If you hate it, let me know and I'll think of something else!), Yi, Abracadoofus, and Ten-Ten. Honestly, I can't thank you guys enough for your support. It means so much to me and I am truly blessed to have you guys behind me for this project. Thank you so much!

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><p>Song: Reflections of Long Ago - Nox Arcana<p>

Pairing: TonioxMiriam

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><p>For a few moments, she could only stare at the still closed door. It was simple and unadorned, giving no indication of what might be contained inside. However, her entire body shook as her eyes once more traced the wood trimmings. She wasn't sure what would happen once she opened the door; the only thing that was certain was that it would be a catalyst of change.<p>

Gathering every ounce of courage she had, she took the doorknob in her hand and gently applied pressure, allowing the door to swing silently on well-oiled hinges. Drawing upon her courage once more, she took one hesitant step into the room, slowly followed by another. Without the assistance of light, the room looked dark and foreboding, only increasing the feeling of dread that roiled within her stomach.

The longer she stared at the room, the more it felt like a crypt.

The longer she stared at the room, the more the utter silence of the night settled around her.

Filled with sudden pain, her hands fumbled for the light switch located near the door. Relief rushed through her frame as she found the switch and turned it on with the tiniest snick of confirmation. The overhead lights flare to life, flooding the room with cheap florescent light. Her footsteps dragged heavily beneath her as she treaded towards the window, consciously forcing her eyes to look straight ahead. Answering to a call she can't even begin to sort through and name, she opened the window and was greeted with a sharp blast of cold air, the quiet howl of the wind, and cold snowflakes drifting lazily into the room. She strained her ears for the sound of human voices - to confirm that she wasn't the only living being left.

The only thing that greeted her was the lonely howl of the wind and a cold smattering of snowflakes.

She took several gasping breaths, feeling the cold night air sear her lungs, as she tried to calm her thoughts enough to think logically. Of course there were no people out and about at this hour, it makes perfectly logical sense.

Yes, it makes perfectly logical sense.

She's not alone...she's not alone...

Her hands gripped the metal frame of the window as she repeated her mantra to herself over and over again, clinging to it as her last hope. Despite her best attempts to convince herself that no one will be awake at this hour, she can't help but continue to listen for people. She needs to know that other people are there. She needs to know that she's not the only one who is going through this.

She is met with barren indifference.

Commanding her long-ago stiffened limbs into action, she turned away from the window, lacking the strength to close it. Perhaps if she left it open long enough, she reasoned, she'll be able to hear the activity of people below. However, as her eyes swept over the room, she felt the helplessness and loneliness crash over her once more. For several seconds, it's all she can do to prevent herself from screaming.

She's not alone.

She's always there.

She can't be alone.

It just doesn't make sense.

The heavily decorated room mocked her with its soft, pastel colors, speaking of warm spring days and easy-going laughter. Nothing within the room eases her tormented state of mind. Instead, wherever her eyes land, it only increases the pain.

The first thing that managed to hold her attention was the crib. In the florescent lights from above, the white-washed wood seemed to glow slightly. The pink blanket hanging at the foot of the crib lay neatly folded, not a single crease or wrinkle out of place. Above the bed hung a child's mobile from which a singular note had never sounded – just as pristine and untouched as everything.

Untouched and alone.

Her eyes closed as she fought back tears. Despite her misgivings, her feet shuffled slowly across the floor before she stopped right next to the crib.

She couldn't bring herself to peer down into it. Instead, she stared at the mobile that swayed gently in the breeze issuing from the still open window. Her numbed hands moving of their own volition, she gently turned the crank for the mobile and listened to the soft tinkling of bells that filled the room. Her eyes closed as she allowed herself to imagine.

Within this world, turning on the mobile was a ritual she engaged in every night. Within this world, she had heard 'Twinkle, Twinkle, Little Star' so many times that she was growing increasingly sick of it. Within this world, the room was warm and one of her favorite places in the house.

Within this world, she wasn't alone.

As if to mock her delusion, a sharp blast of wind from outside rushed into the room and made her shiver. Turning once more to look at the window, she listened as the mobile stubbornly irked out a few more notes before falling silent.

It was a delusion, it was a fantasy; she knew that.

Maybe if she believed in the illusion strongly enough, she could make it a reality.

Stupid really, something that only a precocious child would believe.

Yes…stupid…

Stupid and naïve.

Slowly and laboriously, she allowed herself to turn around and look down into the crib.

Stupid and naïve.

Inside, she found only a teddy bear. Perhaps answering to some childish call within herself, she took the bear within her hands and stared down at its soft, comforting face.

There were no indications that it has ever been held in the hands of a child; there was no matted fur or missing eyes or threadbare fabric to indicate that it had been a child's constant companion throughout the years. There was nothing that would differentiate this bear from the millions of other bears that had been produced; it looked exactly as it had the day she selected it from the toy store.

Unloved, unnoticed, and alone.

She wished she could say that the bear was filled with memories, but she couldn't.

She wished she could say that the blanket at the foot of the bed had been rolled in time and time again; she wished she could say that the mobile had played night after night to a fussy audience.

But she couldn't.

Perhaps she will never be able to.

Still gripping the bear tightly within her hands, she allowed her eyes to once more sweep the room even though she already knew what her eyes will snag on next – it's the object that holds the second most significance in the room. Just as she predicted, her eyes settled on the brightly colored walls. Ever square inch of the walls are filled with fantastical paintings that look as if they stepped right out of a child's overactive imagination. Knights fought dragons; princesses danced in sweeping ball gowns; fairies hovered at the edges, painting everything with the glitter of fairy dust.

She could remember every brushstroke that went into the painting.

She could remember every moment that she put into making the image as perfect and fantastical as possible.

She could remember looking at the finished product with delight, knowing that it would bring nothing but pleasant dreams and fantastical flights of fancy.

Stupid and naïve.

The longer she stared, the more she realized that she was squeezing the bear within her hands tighter and tighter. With monumental effort, she managed to tear her eyes away from the paintings on the wall. It was useless; anywhere she casted her eyes lead to nothing but pain. The closet, filled with tiny clothing she had painstakingly chosen; the bookshelf, filled with colorful children books that detailed her favorite fairytales; the toy chest, overflowing with bright plastic novelties – all of these images only pushed the knife deeper.

Eventually, her eyes once more returned to the painting on the wall, but this time her sight wandered to the lower left corner of the mural. From the distance she at, the particular picture she looked at appeared to be nothing more than a green blob with random smudges of black. Truthfully, she knew that's essentially what it was – she may have been quite the talented painter, but that did not mean that her husband happened to share that talent.

Still gripping the bear within her hands, she walked to the painting and began to trace the outer contours of the image, dropping lower and lower until she was sitting on her knees and one of her hands rested on the painting of the green blob. Up close, it was easier to see what the artists was intending for the picture to be. She could see the eyes, nose, mouth, arms, and legs that extend from the body. A ghost of a smile decorated her lips.

When he had first painted it, she was more than a little miffed. The first problem was that he hadn't asked her permission to add anything to the painting. The second problem was that it clashed with everything else she had painted so far. Didn't he understand that they were having a daughter, not a son? Didn't he understand that a daughter was supposed to have her room decorated with fairies and unicorns and magic? When she brought this point up to him, he only gave one of his awkward, lopsided grins.

"Maybe our daughter will be different."

It was such a typical argument from him that in the end she relented and allowed him to keep the out-of-place alien within the corner. She had contemplated painting over the silly little drawing several times, but she never quite had the heart to go through with it.

Maybe their daughter would be different; maybe their daughter would enjoy the little green alien sneaking into her world of princesses.

It's a question that she can't answer.

It's a question that she'll never be able to answer.

It was a question from a time when she wasn't alone.

Moving of its own accord, her hand left the mural and came to rest of her stomach. She began to gently trace circles across the fabric covering her swollen belly. A few shuddering breaths escaped her lips as she tried her best to control her emotions.

It was pointless.

She no longer carried a tiny life inside her.

By the time she had the opportunity to hold her daughter within her arms, she was already dead. She remembered how tiny and frail she looked, a little bundle of angry red flesh.

She was all alone now.

A miscarriage.

As her mind returned to the present, tears began to fall. They ran freely down her face as she finally gave into the growing despair that had been gnawing at her for the past week. Her unrestrained wails of frustration, regret, and powerlessness filled the silence of the night. She clutched the teddy bear to her breast, almost as if she were holding a child.

Unexpectedly, she felt arms wrapping around her frame and heard a soft voice whispering her name into her ear over and over again. The familiar comfort of her husband's arms around her only made the tears rush down her face with renewed vigor. For six months she had been carrying the tiny life inside her and now it had been snatched away from her.

"…Why?"

The word escaped her as nothing more than a chocked sob as she continued to cry into the night. The entire time, her husband simply held her tighter, rocking gently back and forth as she mourned for a daughter that she would never know.

She wasn't sure how long the two of them sat there, but by the time she gained control of herself again, her throat was raw and her eyes were dry and puffy. Even after her crying had completely died down, the two of them remained in absolute silence.

Suddenly, she felt him release his grasp and she watched silently as he headed towards the window and gently closed it. There was an instantly shift in the room as the winter wind stopped rushing in through the window. When her husband once more turned around, she looked up into his face and realized for the first time that his eyes were also puffy and red – he had been crying as well. This revelation only made her cling tighter to the bear within her arms.

Her husband walked back over to her and once more held her in his arms, tracing gentle circles on her back. To her surprise, she felt her husband's chest begin to rumble as he hummed gently under his breath. She recognized the song instantly. Her lips started moving on their own, forming the words to a nursery rhyme that she had known since her earliest memories.

"Twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are…up above the world so high, like a diamond in the sky…twinkle, twinkle, little star, how I wonder what you are…"

Her voice cracked on the last word as she felt another wave of jumbled emotions wash over her. The bear she was holding fell uselessly to the ground as she clung desperately to her husband. The sound of her broken sobs once more filled the night as she listened to the heartbeat of her husband, the confirmation that he was still alive and was still standing next to her.


	26. Len x Luka

**A/N:** Huzzah, I get to write for my favorite Vocaloid couple! Honestly, it's been a while since I've written for them, so coming back to them was like revisiting old friends. It was really nice. ...Or I could just be an overly sentimental dork. That's definitely possible too.

So many thanks to these awesome individuals! I really enjoyed having the opportunity to read what your favorite chapters have been!: Juice, Ten-Ten, Riv, Yi, and Guest-tan. I hope in particular that you guys enjoy this chapter since it is based on my favorite couple after all!

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><p>Song: Places to Rest - Garfunkle and Oats<p>

Couple: Len & Luka

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><p>There's an expiration date on your relationship.<p>

You know it.

For a year and a half now, you've been aware of its existence, slowly watching as the hours, days, weeks, months tick away. He's blissfully unaware of the fact that soon your relationship will end; he doesn't see the signs that soon the gilded world will come crashing down onto your heads. No matter how you try to distance yourself – to ease the pain of the inevitability of your falling out – he keeps bringing you back.

And selfishly, you allow him to.

You could easily tell him off, you could easily be the one to end the relationship; after all, aren't you the one who's slowly tracking its demise like an impartial observer? Haven't people always told you that it's best to preempt a problem rather than wait for it to explode in your face and then clean up the mess afterwards?

But you can't – just _can't_ – bring yourself to do it.

So instead, you once more allowed him to pull you into a warm embrace as the two of you laid together on the sofa. You allowed him to hold you close and gently whisper sweet words into your ears. You allowed your name on his lips to be the last thing that you heard before the sweet oblivion of sleep in his embrace lays claim to your consciousness.

"Luka."

How many more times will you be allowed the luxury of hearing him say your name with such a loving tone? How many more times will you be allowed to fall asleep in his embrace, the warmth of his body sustaining you as your mind begins to fill with dreams?

How much time is left?

Those hours, days, weeks, months that have already passed you by seem to indicate that maybe, just maybe, this relationship can last longer than you initially thought. Maybe this once you can be absolutely and unequivocally wrong and you will be fine with accepting this distinction. Perhaps all your calculations and figurings are wrong this time.

Perhaps Len is different.

He had seemed different when he first confessed to you; he had been eighteen at the time and it was immediately after he had been handed his diploma. Weeks earlier, he had informed you that after the ceremony, he had something of the utmost importance to discuss with you. As you watched him standing there still robed in his cap and gown, nervously shifting from foot to foot, you felt your heart flutter. You had enough experiences with relationships and confessions to know exactly where this was going.

He was and still is six years your junior, but when he confessed to you, he had been so earnest and heartfelt that you found yourself agreeing before the idea to disagree even crossed your mind. The way his eyes lit up, the way he impulsively embraced you before rushing off to celebrate with the other newly minted high school graduates; all of it is burned into your psyche until this very day. Sometimes when you're in his embrace, you dream about that day.

It had seemed like a day full of such hope, a day full of new beginnings and new stories being told. But looking back, you realize that the clock was ticking even back then. The moment the words 'I would love to go out with you Len' escaped your lips, the downward slide was already started.

It was just a waiting game.

Surely, soon he would notice that he could do so much better than you.

After all, he was an intelligent young man who was also good-looking and polite; a combination that many a girl would kill for. In college, there would be no shortage of wonderful, intelligent women for him to get to know and fall in love with. And by comparison, you are a girl who dropped out of college in order to pursue your dream of becoming a singer. You are someone who gave up.

Surely, soon he would fall in love with someone far more deserving of his affections.

But all through his first year of college, your relationship remained strong. The two of you kept in constant contact; anniversaries, birthdays, and holidays were all celebrated with proper accord; when he came home for breaks, every day was spent together and every moment was filled with joy. In the time the two of you had been separated, he matured slightly, but other than that he remained mostly unchanged. He was still his wonderful, wonderful, six years younger than you self.

He was nineteen, in college, and had his whole life ahead of him.

You were twenty-five, barely managing to make ends meet, and chasing a pipe dream.

You convinced yourself that the number of days left in your relationship could be counted on one hand.

But despite this, or perhaps because of this, you felt yourself clinging ever tighter to him. Your mind was screaming at you that you needed to start putting distance between the two of you _now_ – it would make the ending of this inevitable tale easier on you. Yet you couldn't stop it. Just. Couldn't. Stop. It.

Instead, every night you allowed him to embrace you as the two of you fell asleep, his heartbeat pressed against your cheek. You allowed those precious moments before you fell asleep, those precious moments before another day of your limited time together was burned away, to mean the world to you.

You allowed Len to mean to world to you.

It was foolish. Stupid. Childish. Foolish.

And now you're going to pay for it. Now, the pain is going to be a thousand times worse when he realizes that you are not the end-all-be-all of people that he can date. When he realizes that he can do better, you know that it's going to hurt far more now.

All because you love him.

Every time he takes you in his embrace, these memories and bitter feelings wash over you, and for a moment you're unable to breath. You're unable to think. You're unable to function. You love him so much. You. Love. Him.

But your days are numbered, ever ticking down.

The only question that remains is just how long the fuse is before it all explodes.

Before you can find your answer, the summer of his freshman year is over and he's back to college. Again, the phone calls are nearly constant and although you can't see him, can't sleep within his embrace, his voice acts as your nightly lullaby. Sometimes you wonder if you should record his voice, just so you can continue to hear it after he leaves you.

To your surprise, the relationship continues to survive until winter break rolls around and you're once more in his embrace. Today is his first day back and as you wait nervously at the train station, your heart is hammering a mile a minute. Will today be the day? Will he step off that train and simply walk past you?

Will he still love you?

As the train pulls up, you stand abruptly, your newly cut hair bobbing slightly with the motion. You had decided to cut it short after a bartender at one of the bars you sometimes have a gig at mentioned that it would look cute that way. At the time, it seemed like a good idea, but now you're worried what he'll have to say.

People begin to file out of the train and you watch as a stream of unfamiliar faces shuffles past you. Suddenly, you see blue eyes, hair pulled back in a short ponytail, and round childish cheeks.

You see him.

You're about to call out to him, but he instantly turns to find you, his face breaking into a grin as he haphazardly drops the luggage he had been dragging behind him and pulls you into a warm embrace. You find tears running down your face as he gently plays with your now short, pink hair.

When he's gone, you're going to miss him.

You're going to miss every single thing about him.

But he's going to leave you, because he can do so much better.

So. Much. Better.

You're counting the days.

The day plays out like many that you have spent together, and it ends as they always do, with the two of you lying on the couch watching whatever movie happens to be on the television. It has been a while since you've been allowed to sink into his embrace, and you find yourself indulging in the luxury of his presence. The two of you fall into silence as you allow the movie to occupy your thoughts for a moment rather than just how wrong this it.

Tick, tick, tick.

The movie that has been playing in the background draws to an end and you feel your eyelids begin to grow heavy. This too is just another inevitability of the time the two of you spend together; just as you have your prescribed role, he has his.

So when you yawn loudly, he gives a well-meaning chuckle and pulls you into a warm embrace, your ear shoving against his chest and his heartbeat. You allow your eyes to close as you listen to the reassuring sound of his heartbeat.

For a moment, the ticking of the clock and his heartbeat sound in perfect harmony. Then, the sound of his heartbeat quickly swallows the ticking. For that one glorious moment before sleep claims you, you're allowed to pretend.

You can pretend that this is a permanent relationship.

You can pretend that he won't find someone better.

You can pretend that the two of you are eternally linked through some sort of pre-ordained destiny.

When your eyes are closed and the world is dark and all you can hear is his heartbeat, then you can pretend. In those few glorious moments, there's no need to memorize the feeling of his arms around you or the sound of his voice or all of his millions of little quirks. There's no need, because in those few moments there's no ticking clock.

But eventually, you'll wake up and find that he left in the middle of the night and now, now you are alone. The couch where he should be is cold; the sound of the ticking has stopped.

Because the end has been reached.

And you knew it was coming – you had been telling yourself for a year and a half now that this day was coming. But it's only looking back now that you realize that every time you allowed yourself to indulge in the delusion, it felt more and more real to you.

But he has moved on.

On to someone better.

So. Much. Better.

And you sit alone, remembering, remembering, remembering.

Because memories are all that you have left of him.

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** This one was surprisingly difficult to write...


	27. Bruno x Mayu

**A/N: I'm hosting a contest! Go check out my profile page for more information!  
><strong>

Writing for Mayu is far more fun than it has any right to be. I dunno, the two characters that I characterize as the most sociopathic (Piko and Mayu) are my two favorites to write for _and_ easiest to write for. I wonder what that says about me as a person.

Also, script format sneaks into the story again. I really should work on not breaking the rules. Well, if my stories/account suddenly disappears, you all know why.

A million and more thanks to these awesome people for their reviews and support!: Mir, Juice, Riv, Ten-Ten, Yi, The Super Twins, Guest-tan, and MizuneMinamiki(x2!). You guys make me smile and always manage to make my day brighter!

* * *

><p>Couple: Bruno &amp; Mayu<p>

Song: The Horror of Our Love - Ludo

* * *

><p><strong>POLICE QUESTIONING TRANSCRIPT #1<strong>

**CASE #: 8302-166HD**

**INTERVIEWER: Officer Gakupo Kamui**

**INTERVIWEE: Mayu**

KAMUI:Please state your name for the record.

MAYU: Mayu.

KAMUI: Please also state your last name.

MAYU: I was born with one. However, I choose to no longer use it. Now I am just an invisible person.

KAMUI: I see. Have you been read and do you understand your Miranda Rights?

MAYU: Yes.

KAMUI: Then let's start the questioning process. Do you confirm that you discovered the body of the victim around 7 in the morning on July 12th and then immediately reported your discovery to the police with your cellphone?

MAYU: Yes.

KAMUI: Did you know the deceased in any way?

MAYU: [No Response]

KAMUI: Miss. Mayu, please answer the question.

MAYU: The first time I met him, he was already dead. I'm not speaking metaphorically either; he was a corpse decomposing on the side of the road. Or I guess more accurately, he was decomposing by the jogging trail that goes through the woods to the north.

I'm not actually much of a jogger so I guess it was just bad luck that I started my new exercise regime on the day he was killed. I mean, I started running because one of my friends had called me a "chubby bunny". I knew – and still know – that she was just kidding, but I swore to myself that the next day I would start exercising.

Some people are just born unlucky, aren't they?

But then again, you either know all this or don't care about the extra fluff, so I'm not quite sure why I'm still talking; perhaps I'm just lonely?

I'm sorry officer; I seem to have drifted from the original question. What was it again?

KAMUI: If you knew the deceased. However, I meant to imply if you knew the deceased before he was killed.

MAYU: Oh, right. Well the answer to that would be no.

KAMUI: So you're instigating that you have no reason to kill the victim?

MAYU: That's correct.

KAMUI: What about killing in a fit of rage? Is it possible that you were so upset about something that you lashed out and simply attacked the victim, who just happened to be the nearest person?

MAYU: I already told you that the first time I met him, or even saw him, he was already dead. He was wrapped in a clear plastic bag and his surprised face and cloudy eyes looked rather like that of a dead fish.

KAMUI: I see. Did you happen to see anyone suspicious in the area?

MAYU: Besides me and the dead body, there was no one.

KAMUI: Are you sure? Isn't it possible that you simply missed them? The woods are huge and it would be rather easy for someone to slip away unseen.

MAYU: I suppose it's possible, but I didn't see anyone. No matter how many ways you rephrase the question, I won't be able to answer it with anything but the truth.

KAMUI: I understand, however the human mind is a fickle thing. I just want to make sure that you're absolutely sure about what you saw.

MAYU: Don't worry about that. I'm sure of what I saw and I promise you that what I saw was a dead man in a bag and an empty bicycling path.

KAMUI: We'll just leave it at that today then. Thank you very much for your time Miss. Mayu.

MAYU: If you will permit me, can I ask one question. After all, I've done my very best to supply you with as much knowledge as I can muster; don't you think it's only fair that you return the favor a little bit?

KAMUI: As long as it's not classified information, I can answer your question.

MAYU: What was the name of the man who was killed?

KAMUI: [No Response]

MAYU: I don't understand why you're hesitating. Tonight his name will be all over the news anyways. Either I'll find out then or I'll find out now.

KAMUI: Bruno.

MAYU: Please also state his last name.

KAMUI: He didn't have one. Apparently he was rather like you.

MAYU: Another person that has thrown away their last name? Another invisible person? My, it seems that God has quite the sick sense of humor. Thank you very much for sharing this information with me officer. If I think of anything that may help in finding Bruno's killer, I will be sure to contact you.

[END OF INTERVIEW]

* * *

><p><strong>POLICE QUESTIONING TRANSCRIPT #2<strong>

**CASE #: 8302-166HD**

**INTERVIEWER: Officer Gakupo Kamui**

**INTERVIWEE: Mayu**

KAMUI: You told me on the phone that you had information that may lead to Bruno's killer.

MAYU: I don't think I told you that in so many words. Rather, I'm pretty sure that I told you I had information about Bruno's case that you might find interesting.

KAMUI: The only interest I have in this case is bringing it to a close. It's been about 3 months now and we've still got nothing; we barely know anything about our victim.

MAYU: Born Bruno Voctro in Almeria, Spain, he threw away his last name at the age of seventeen. Most of his family and consequently everyone from his old life is still there in Almeria. He moved to Japan 5 months ago even though he doesn't speak a word of Japanese.

KAMUI: How in the hell do you know any of this?

MAYU: Do you remember how last time I commented on the big man upstairs' sense of humor? I'm sure you made the assumption that I was talking about the irony of involving two people with no last name in the same murder investigation. However, that's not what I meant.

No, I meant that he has a sick sense of humor because you would be able to find nothing about Bruno. He was a man who wanted to disappear and knew how to do it. I have to admit that for a time, he even had me stumped, but I guess in the end I'm better at being invisible than he is.

KAMUI: How did you get this information?

MAYU: That's something only other invisible people get to know. Last time I checked you still had a last name Officer Kamui.

KAMUI: Fine then, let's change the question. Why are you so determined to help out with this case? Most people that find a dead body do everything in their power to get away from the memory of it.

MAYU: I suppose I'm not like most people.

KAMUI: Then why?

MAYU: Idle curiosity.

KAMUI: What?

MAYU: I'm curious about Bruno. I want to know why he was killed and by whom.

KAMUI: But by your own admission, you never knew him in life. Are you truly that interested in the life of a dead man?

MAYU: It's not the dead man's life I'm interested in, rather it's the invisible man's life that I'm interested in.

KAMUI: So what are the conditions; why are you coming to the police with this information? Am I to assume that you would like to officially work with the police towards solving this case?

MAYU: I'm frustrated with you.

KAMUI: Frustrated?

MAYU: Extremely. I've been keeping up with this case, but you never seem to make any headway. The case has gone cold and so many other gruesome crimes have taken up people's time that no one cares to pay attention to the life of the invisible man. Somehow, I just don't find that fair. He was invisible during life, so I think we should give him a chance to be visible now that he's dead.

I kept waiting for you guys to make some progress or announce that you had a suspect in custody, but you were all just floundering about. Obviously I couldn't leave it to the police, so I began to dig around myself. I figure that the best way to keep the case alive is to feed you guys information.

Please pardon me, I've done nothing but speak ill of your profession. While it's true that I have no great love for the police, I didn't mean to indicate that I think you're entirely incompetent. In fact, I trust that you will use the information I just gave you to catch the culprit and put them behind bars where they belong.

As for me, I hope that my cooperation with the police ends here.

[END OF INTERVIEW]

* * *

><p><strong>POLICE QUESTIONING TRANSCRIPT #3<strong>

**CASE #: 8302-166HD**

**INTERVIEWER: Officer Gakupo Kamui**

**INTERVIWEE: Mayu**

MAYU: You always get to speak first when we turn on the tape recorder. I think it's my turn to be allowed that honor.

KAMUI: Am I to take it that you are displeased with the direction the investigation is progressing?

MAYU: Yes I am. I find it terribly rude that I provide you with so much information – something that can be rather difficult to find, mind you – and you repay me by squandering it. I tried my best to be patient and wait for you to find more information, but you have utterly failed me once again.

KAMUI: I would hardly say we utterly failed. Using the information you gave us last time, we were able to get in contact with Bruno's family and we've discovered that when he traveled to Japan, he traveled with his girlfriend Clara. Before the murder, she had been calling home every day, but her family hasn't heard from her since.

MAYU: Clara? So is she a suspect or a potential victim?

KAMUI: Right now we're treating her as both. However, new evidence has arisen that seems to indicate that she may have something to do with the murders. In my mind, I would call that progress.

MAYU: Of course it's progress. However, progress in the wrong direction seems rather more like a waste of time than anything gainful to me.

KAMUI: What in the world are you talking about?

MAYU: You're chasing after the wrong criminal.

KAMUI: Are you claiming that you know who killed Bruno?

MAYU: That would seem to be the case.

KAMUI: But how in the world have you come across knowledge like that?

MAYU: Invisible people are good at hiding, but other invisible people are also incredibly talented at finding one another.

KAMUI: Are you claiming that another one of these 'invisible people' killed Bruno?

MAYU: I do believe that's what my words indicate.

KAMUI: Then tell me who did it. Tell me who killed Bruno.

MAYU: What's the magic word?

KAMUI: What?

MAYU: The magic word. It's what you say when you want to ask someone for a favor rather than just demanding cooperation as you just did.

KAMUI: Don't give me that shit. I could have you detained for obstruction of justice.

MAYU: Calm down officer. I never said that I wouldn't share the information, but I really don't think that the police station is a good place for this information. Honestly, I'm afraid what kind of prying ears there might be around.

KAMUI: We're perfectly safe here. No one will hear us and no one will take the information.

MAYU: No matter what assurances you attempt to make, I will not agree to divulge this information unless we meet at a neutral location.

KAMUI: If I agree to this, do you swear upon your soul that you will give me the name of Bruno's killer?

MAYU: Of course.

KAMUI: I trust you.

MAYU: Of course. After all, we're in this together. I want to catch Bruno's killer just as much as you do. Now about the location-

[2 minutes and 13 seconds of indistinct interactions before tape recorder is turned off]

* * *

><p>"…God, this is fucking messed up…"<p>

With a heavy sigh, Mikuo allowed the stack of papers to fall from his hands and scatter across his desk. Wearily, he rubbed at the bridge of his nose in a futile attempt to fight off a growing headache. He allowed himself the luxury of inaction for a few minutes before he collected the case file together once more and listlessly flipped through the pages.

No matter how many times he read over the transcripts, he couldn't find any new clues. It was obvious that Mayu wasn't the most stable of individuals, but there was nothing within the transcripts that blatantly ousted her as a clinically insane woman. Due to the fact that the tape recorder used during her interrogation was gone, he didn't even have the luxury of judging her character based on tone and intonation. Instead, he had to read the frustratingly inept questioning styles of the still green Gakupo Kamui over and over again until the words on the page began to swim before his eyes.

With a resolute shake of his head, Mikuo dislodged his negative impressions of Gakupo. It didn't matter anymore what blunders had been made during the questioning process. It didn't matter that Gakupo had gotten far too personally involved in the case. It didn't matter anymore that Mayu was obviously toying with a being of inferior intellect.

All that mattered was that Gakupo Kamui was missing.

And Mayu was presumed to be the last person to see him.

In an attempt to fill time with something halfway meaningful, Mikuo once more pulled the file that they had on Mayu. Per regulations, they had her fingerprints on file, but nowhere within the public record could they find a match. Similar problems arose when they went to investigate the place she had indicated as her address – all they found was an empty lot. The tenants that lived in the apartments nearby were quick to inform them that the particular plot of land had been empty for many years. As for the "friend" Mayu mentioned during questioning, no matter how much they asked around or circulated her picture, everyone denied ever knowing her.

It was as if Mayu had materialized out of nowhere and disappeared just as quickly.

Mikuo couldn't help but grind his teeth in frustration.

Mayu had played them all like a game and she had won with ease.

Frustration reaching a fever pitch, Mikuo hastily grabbed up the transcripts of Mayu's questioning and the few fuzzy photos they had managed to obtain from security footage before storming out of his office. For years, it had been his job to outsmart criminals; he was not going to be beat without a fight.

He would find Mayu.

He would find Gakupo.

He would save him.

He would win.

* * *

><p>"You even brought your recorder along to our meeting?"<p>

"Well you're going to reveal the name of the murderer, which we'll definitely need a record of. I hope that this won't deter you from revealing the name of the killer."

"No, don't worry about that. I will still reveal the killer's name to you."

"I'm glad to hear that Miss. Mayu. Now, if you would…?"

"Before that, I have a question for you Mr. Kamui. I can call you that right? After all, you're not in your uniform right now so I think it would be kind of strange to call you 'officer'."

"That's fine with me."

"Good. Well then Mr. Kamui, do you believe in love at first sight?"

"P-Pardon me?"

"It's really a simple question; do you believe that after seeing someone for the first time, you can fall instantly in love?"

"Well, I…"

"Come now, there's no right or wrong answer."

"I…believe that maybe if it's the right time or the right place that love at first sight may be possible."

"Really? I didn't expect you to be such a romantic!"

"Well, I mean…"

"Then what about me?"

"…Pardon?"

"Did you fall in love with me at first sight?"

"I…"

"Because I fell in love with you…particularly your eyes. They're positively beautiful…such a pretty blue…such a pretty blue…"

"M-Miss. Mayu."

"So did you fall in love with me at first sight? Please, tell me…Bruno."

* * *

><p>Abruptly, the recording cut off, filling the room with silence. Slowly and methodically, Mayu allowed her finger to trace the play button as a tiny smile tugged at the corner of her lips. Moving deliberately, she headed towards the bound, gagged, and blindfolded man who struggled weakly against the bounds that securely held him.<p>

"I'm surprised you still have so much energy," She drawled out slowly, "After all, I've kept you locked up here for three days now. And to add insult to injury, I've made you listen over and over to your ineptitude. If I were you, I would have died from shame quite some time ago. I do have to take the time to compliment you on your kissing. You were surprisingly good. It's simply too bad that the kiss was what allowed me to slip you the knock-out drugs. Truly a bad judgment call on your part."

At the sound of her voice, the man began to struggle more violently, head thrashing from side to side as muffled cries managed to escape his cloth bonds. However, Mayu could tell that at this point he was simply doing it for theatrics sake; his movements could only be described as feeble. The smile on her face split further. Moving with steps hastened with anticipation, she made her way back to the tape recorder and clicked the rewind button.

"I'm sorry Gakupo," She said as the sound of the whirring tape filled the room, "But it looks like today is your last day. I do hope that you understand that I had to keep you tied up here for a few days. If you were at full strength, I wouldn't have been able to fight you off if you struggled."

By this point, Gakupo's movement had stopped and he simply sat limply on the floor.

"You should be glad Mr. Romantic," Mayu continued, a crooked grin dominating her face, "It's thanks to you that I'll be able to see Bruno once again."

The tape recorder made a sharp click noise as it reached the end of its track. Mayu clicked the play button and for a few moments, silence filled the room. Then came the sound of Mayu's voice.

_"You even brought your recorder along to our meeting?"_

Gakupo's voice was quick to answer.

_"Well you're going to reveal the name of the murderer which we'll definitely need a record of. I hope that this won't deter you from revealing the name of the killer."_

"But you already know that I never had any plans to reveal the name of the killer to you."

_"I'm glad to hear that Miss. Mayu. Now, if you would…?"_

"Because by the time I talked to you, I had already figured out who had killed Bruno and I had exacted my revenge. I had already killed Clara."

The tape continued to play in the background, but Mayu was no longer listening. Her footsteps rang hollowly against the concrete walls as she made her way to what she liked to call her 'workbench'. Her hands instantly sought a thin scalpel.

"You know," Mayu said as the conversation continued to play over the tape recorder, "I don't believe in something as silly and inane as love at first sight. Even in my case, when I first found Bruno wrapped up in plastic, I felt nothing akin to love. Rather, I felt like I was going to puke."

As she spoke, Mayu continued to draw closer to where Gakupo sat.

"But the more I looked into him and his background, the more I became positively fascinated with him. Here was a person that had thrown his identity away, just like I had, but he managed to live such a fulfilling life! He went traveling; he lectured at college campuses; he fronted a band – he did these things and so many more. He was so fascinating. He was so magnetic."

Mayu knelt down so she was on eye level with Gakupo. Her knife slowly drew closer to his still blindfolded eyes.

"Then I started to dream of him. He would hold me, tell me that he loves me, tell me that the two of us would be together forever. The dreams were so beautiful. However, every time I looked up at his face, I only saw the face of a dead man; I say cloudy eyes, blood splattered skin and a mouth open like that of a gasping fish."

Slowly, slowly, she began to apply pressure. The sound of cloth ripping tore through the room. It was only at this moment that Gakupo began to struggle.

"I don't want my dreams to be scary any more. You're going to help me with that, aren't you Gakupo? Isn't it the job of a police officer to help the common people?"

The muffled sounds behind the cloth gag in Gakupo's mouth grew in intensity and pitch. Suddenly, Mayu's hand jerked forward as the first layer of skin was broken.

"You have beautiful eyes, you know that? Such a pretty blue…Bruno had blue eyes. This will be the first step. Soon, I will rebuild Bruno. Then my dreams will be beautiful. Then when I look at his face, I'll see his pretty blue eyes and I'll love them. Only you can help me with this Gakupo. Only you have eyes that are just as pretty and blue as Bruno's were. You'll help me, won't you? Won't you?"

_"So did you fall in love with me at first sight? Please, tell me…Bruno._


	28. YOHIOloid x Miku

**A/N: **I don't even know about this chapter. I started out liking it, but now I'm just super "meh" about it as a whole. Ah well. With 100 chapters, there's bound to be duds stuck within the mix.

Yohi is so difficult for me to write for. The thing I struggled with most for this one-shot was retaining his voice, but in the end I suppose I'm pleased with how it turned out. Also, we _finally_ get a Miku chapter, so if you were waiting for her, here she is!

A heart-felt thank you to all these heart-filled individuals!: Mir, Juice, Ten-Ten, and Riv! You all already know how much I love you, but I'll let you know again, just so you don't forget.

* * *

><p>Song: Gott ist ein Popstar (God is a Popstar) - Oomph! (...Did I really need to translate that? Also, I love this band to itty bitty bits)<p>

Couple: YOHIOloidxMiku

* * *

><p>Slowly but surely Miku counts out the pills; two red, one yellow, two blue, two pale pink, one small circular one, and one of the giant ones that you used to call "horse pills". It's a combination of sleeping pills, anti-depressants, and a cocktail of other things that are intended to keep her running well beyond human limits.<p>

Miku's hands are shaking violently, her eyes are watery and bloodshot, and she sways uncertainly from side to side as if she's going to tip over at any moment. Slowly she picks up a pill at random – today it's the yellow one – and shoves it through her lips, choosing to swallow it dry. A moment later, the second pill is in her hand and she's swallowing that one as well. As the pills slip down her gullet one at a time, I mouth along.

You're. Such. A. Good. Sweet. Little. Girl. Miku. Hatsune.

Nine words, nine pills.

Miku probably doesn't notice that there's one more word and one more pill than usual. To her, it's all the same; she's still clinging to those words I told you all those years ago: just stick with me and do what you're told and you'll become a star.

"Great work today Miku. Now it's time for bed."

The smile that she gives me is one that both she and you have rehearsed time and time again. Unlike you, it never reaches her eyes – eyes that were once yours now belong to a semi-coherent pop-idol, constantly glazed by the pills we keep feeding her. But everything else about the smile is perfect. Sublimely perfect. She's like a tiny poodle being paraded proudly around a dog show.

God does it make me want to punch something. It probably would be her face if I wouldn't feel guilty about punching you afterwards.

"Thanks Yohioloid," Miku says in a voice just as trained as her smile, "I was just starting to get sleepy. You'll stay with me tonight, won't you?"

"Yeah, of course."

We've both gone through this ritual enough times to know exactly where this is going and just how blatantly the two of us are lying. I scoop her up into my arms and she buries her face into my chest, mumbling sleepily. When I try to lay her into bed, she drags me down with her, messily kissing whatever exposed skin she can find. I return the favor even though we're both aware that it won't lead to sex. That stopped when you started calling me 'Yohioloid' again.

Oh I'm sure that most people would love to say that they've had the opportunity to fuck a pop-idol, but I can't bring myself to do it. I've had ample opportunities, trust me, but every time I look at her perfectly primped face, all I can see is you and then any sex drive I had just grinds to a halt.

Because she's not you.

Miku Hatsune will never be you.

Like always, she pulls away a few minutes later, that perfectly practiced smile staining your face.

"I love you Yohi. I truly, truly do."

No, it's not you. Stop pretending that it's you.

She passes out in my arms. Half coherent words escape her lips as her breathing instantly slows and her eyelids flutter shut. Her teal hair forms a halo around her figure and her pale skin seems to glow in the filtered moonlight from the window. People would probably refer to her as an angel – maybe even a goddess if they were feeling particularly poetic.

You want to know what I see?

A monster.

Every time I watch her knock back all those sterile, brightly colored pills, I want to smack them out of her hands; I want to scream at you. I want you to realize that you're no longer Saki Fujita and this little charade has got to stop.

Sure, stick with me and you'll go far. I made good on my promise alright. You're a fucking pop-idol alright.

A symbol; an icon.

A hollow shell.

For years now, I've played my part is this little tragi-comedy, but at this point I just don't give two shits anymore. I've had enough of dealing with Miku Hatsune; I want Saki Fujita back goddammit and I want her now. Yeah I'm being a selfish prick, but like I said, I just don't care.

When I look down at Miku now, face ethereally calm and body warm in my embrace, memories of you force their way to the surface. When she's asleep, her face is nearly identical to yours. I think seeing her sleeping face over and over again was what finally forced me to act on these impulses that have been brewing within me for god knows how long.

Hey Saki, do you remember when we first met? I seriously doubt it. These pills we're feeding you have been killing off any form of identity you had. Nothing illegal of course – Crypton's not stupid enough to risk the scandal – but the doses and combinations should have killed your body long ago. Maybe you would be better off if they had killed you rather than just leaving an empty shell for a pop-idol to fill.

But then again, maybe this is exactly what you've always wanted. Perhaps your goal all along was to kill off Saki Fujita. Well if that's the case, you're the selfish prick here, not me. You're just running away from your problems. No matter how hard I search to make you man up and face your problems head on, the Saki Fujita that I knew for only a short time is nowhere to be found.

And yet it's Saki Fujita that I'm in love with, not Miku Hatsune.

When you walked into the audition room, I wonder what your thoughts were. I know that if I had walked into a room with a has-been pop-star turned manager (yours truly), a stuffy giant of a man (Big Al, my once manager now reluctant associate), and a skinny blonde girl (Rin, a once starlet that I kept around because she's a pretty good lay) I would have laughed hysterically before walking out.

Apparently though, you had more optimism (or stupidity, I always get those two confused) and you walked forward, gave an overly formal bow, introduced yourself, and began to sing.

Being completely honest here, you were nothing special. Sure your voice was cute and that braid that reached to your knees just screamed "cutesy pop-idol", but you were at about the same potential level as the two dozen girls that had gone before you. I let you get about halfway through your song before I shot Big Al a look that roughly translates to 'shut this girl up. Now'.

With that, he clapped his hands, thanked you for your time, and asked if we had any questions before turning pointedly to me. Somehow it had ended up being my job to ask the 'meaningful' questions that would help to determine if someone was star material or not. At this point I was sick as hell of it, so I just asked the first thing that came to mind.

"Give me the name of some of my songs."

It was a dick move. Sure, I had minor fame for a time, but that was in the hinter years. There was no way anyone showing up to these auditions had any idea who I was, let alone what any of my songs were. I was about to change my question after another one of Big Al's killer glares, but suddenly you began to speak.

It took me several seconds to realize that you were rattling off my entire discography, from beginning to end.

We all sat there stunned, staring at you as you stared at the ceiling. You were listing song after song (and album names; you gotta admit, that was a little bit of a kiss-up move) as if you had all the CDs right in front of you. By the time we realized that we should probably shut you up, you had reached the end of narrating my illustrious career and you once more entered into one of your overly formal bows. I'm sure you don't remember what you said then, so I'll just remind you.

"Thank you very much for giving me the opportunity to sing for you Yohioloid. It's truly been an honor."

That's what you said, word for word. After you left that room and Rin ushered in the next girl, I just kept repeating it to myself over and over again. You know what the really damn weird thing about it was? You sounded _sincere_. It sounded like you simply wanted to come and sing for me and that was enough for you.

I can't remember any of the other girls who came to see us that day. All I remember clearly is your audition and that one little sentence. Before I realized it, the painful audition process was over and it was well nearing midnight. I bid Big Al and Rin both hasty goodbyes before shuffling to my car as quickly as humanly possible.

Why I decided to call you, I can't really say.

I can say this; that night I made both the stupidest move of my life and the most intelligent move of my career.

When you picked up the phone, your voice was thick with sleep and I could hear your barely suppressed yawn. I allowed myself to indulge in your sleepy voice for a few moments before I revealed who I was. That sure as hell woke you up fast. It also led to a string of obnoxious apologies, so I'm pretty sure that counts as your revenge. You're not allowed to collect on it now, got that?

Guess it wouldn't matter since the revenge belongs to you, Saki, not Miku.

We met up that night on a park bench. You had a bulging duffle bag slung over your shoulder and a nervous smile painting your face. Honestly, I don't remember much of the conversation as the two of us sat there – I do remember asking how the hell you knew all those songs and you revealing that you had an older sister who listened to my music. As a result, you just kind of latched onto it as well.

The rest of the night was spent on that bench, the two of us just shooting the breeze about anything that came to mind. I never once asked why you had that bag (although it would take a moron not to realize that you wanted me to whisk you away to the land of pop-idols) and you never once asked why I had called you to this park bench (although I do wonder if you were aware that it was ninety-eight percent libido and two percent plain curiosity). Funny how that night didn't really pan out like either of us expected.

Instead of getting my quick fix and letting you stay as long as you satisfied my needs, I found myself rejecting the idea. It wasn't because you were barely legal (let's be honest here, I haven't exactly been a saint) but rather it was something nagging at the back of my throat. It was something I hadn't felt in a long time. Then I didn't have a name for it. Now I know all too well.

I was in love with you.

So let's see, after that I kissed you. I won't take the time to describe it to you, just let me tell you that it was obvious to me that you were inexperienced. But hey, it was pretty nice. It was sweet and warm, just like every girl's first kiss should be. Don't really know if it was your first, but I like to pretend that it was. It's also kind of nice to pretend that I was your first love.

I'm pretty sure it's just my way of clinging to the memory of Saki rather than the reality of Miku.

When we broke from the kiss, your cheeks were bright red and you quickly averted your gaze. You mumbled cutely and let your duffle bag drop from your shoulder. For a moment, I thought you were going to simply slink off home and pretend it never happened but instead you turned and met my eyes. This is another sentence that I remember perfectly. You want to know why?

Because it was the last thing you said before you began the transformation into Miku Hatsune.

"I'm going with you. If it's as a mistress, that's fine; if it's as a pop-idol, that's even better. Either way you're not going to be able to get rid of me."

I'm not sure if it was me who damned you to death or yourself, but a moment later I was smiling as I leaned in to give you another peck on the lips. When I pulled back and our eyes met, I said the sentence; the one sentence that would change things forever.

"Stick with me, do what you're told, and you'll become the biggest pop-idol this world has ever seen."

The way your eyes lit up at those words made that itching at the back of my throat start up again. God did I love you in that moment. When I took your hand and led you back to my apartment, we both knew where we were going to end up for the night. It was only after you fell asleep in my arms that I started calling you by your stage name.

Miku Hatsune.

There's no special meaning behind the name; you know that right? It didn't matter to us which girl we got to play the part – whoever it was, she was going to be Miku Hatsune, the next pop-idol that everyone knew. But as I held you in my arms that night and looked at your serene little face, I found myself unable to think of you as anyone but Saki.

The next day, we began grooming you. Voice lessons, etiquette lessons, dance lessons, fashion consulting – you went through it all and not once did you let that smile of yours waver. It was only when you came home with me at the end of the day that anyone called you by your real name. Those were the rare times when you would complain and allow your smile to falter; it was the only time that you allowed yourself to be vulnerable. Call me overprotective or whatever, but it's what made me love you.

It was only when the two of us were alone together that I ever got to see Saki.

In exchange for your identity, you got that fame that you were seeking. It took a few months, but pretty soon the world was bubbling with news about the new pop-idol Miku; people began to recognize you when you went out in public; the paparazzi began hanging around your usual haunts. At first, you were simply ecstatic; every night you would recount to me the number of people who had recognized you as if I wasn't with you when it happened. Looking back, I guess that could be described as the 'happy' time of our relationship.

But then things started to change.

The differences were subtle at first – a laugh where there wasn't one before; a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. For a time, I didn't catch onto the changes and I believed that things were going just as planned. There were simply two faces to you; one was Saki, the other was Miku. Simple enough, right?

Apparently it wasn't simple for you.

That night when you started calling me by my stage name again rather than 'Yohi' and insisted that I call you Miku was the first time I realized just how far the transformation had gone.

At that point, you were dying your hair teal rather than wearing a wig; you constantly wore your blue contacts; your smiles were perfect and you never had a negative word to say about anyone. It made me fucking sick to look at your face.

It wasn't yours any longer.

It now belonged to a girl name Miku Hatsune.

I am sorry that I threw you off the bed that night. I wasn't really thinking rationally at the time. What I'm not sorry about was sleeping on the couch that night and buying you your own apartment the next day. The girl currently living in my apartment wasn't Saki. She wasn't the girl I had fallen in love with.

As the two of us silently packed your bags together, I remember hearing the sound of you crying, but when I turned around to look at you, one of your perfectly plastic smiles adorned your face.

Goddammit, if only you had been frowning, I could have taken you back. However, you didn't, so a few hours later, I watched as a limo drove you away. Through the whole process, you had that fucking smile plastered on your face. Sometimes I wonder if you cried after I couldn't see you anymore. It doesn't matter though, because in my mind, Saki Fujita was no more.

That was the day that the girl I'm currently holding in my arms stopped being you.

That was the day I began hating her.

That was the day she started taking the pills.

At first it was just one pill – she was having trouble sleeping and just needed a little bit of help. Within two months, the number of pills she was taking every night had grown to five. At that point, it became my job to ensure that she took all her pills every night and I was to add a pill every time I saw the cracks of reality breaking through her façade. My job shifted from manager to doll wrangler.

So I can't help but wonder; whose fault was it that you died: mine or yours?

Logically it was yours since you wanted to get into the business in the first place; you knew the risk coming in. But you know it's equally as logical to blame me for it. After all, haven't I been spouting off that I love you and all that crap? If I loved you, I sure as hell had an awful way of showing it; I simply sat by and watched you destroy yourself. Hell, I _helped_ you destroy yourself.

Maybe it's what you wished for, but it's not what I wished for.

Hell yes I'm a selfish prick, but so are you.

Heh, maybe that's why the two of us made such a lovely couple.

Well you may be content to run away from any responsibility for your actions, but I'm made of sterner stuff than you. I'll stick it out and go through whatever punishment the world's got lined up for me. I may be selfish, but I'm not a coward.

That's why I'm cleaning up my mess – a little mess known as Miku Hatsune.

The extra pill I gave her tonight wasn't just another anti-depressant.

It's been about forty-five minutes since her chest stopped rising and falling. Her body has begun to go stiff and cold. Gently I extract my arms from behind her, lower my ear to her lips, and prod at her neck, searching for a pulse.

I find nothing.

I leave her bedroom and listen to the click of the door behind me. A few seconds later I'm walking to my car, as if I were just another random person and not someone who had just committed murder. Kinda funny how I can be so level headed about this but so bent out of shape every time I looked at Miku's smiling face.

I wonder why I did it.

Because I love you and hate her for stealing you away forever?

That would be the fucking noble reason, but we both know that I'm no knight in shining armor. No, the reason that I did it was because I wanted to – it's because I'm a selfish prick. I know for a fact that killing Miku won't bring you back; I stopped believing in stupid things like that years ago.

But you know what I get in exchange?

Closure.

I managed to kill the girl that stole you away from me.

It's a shame that you're going to heaven and I'm going to hell, because it would have been nice to be able to see you just one more time.

As I turn the keys in the ignition and hear the motor roar to life, I seriously contemplate going back up stairs and starting to perform CPR. Maybe it's pointless; maybe it's not. Suddenly, a loud, bright song begins to play over the speakers and I instantly recognize Miku's voice. It's the last spark I need. A moment later I'm pushing the accelerator to the floor and my car is speeding down the highway. Tomorrow, the police will come to lock me away, but tonight belongs to me.

I hear there's a nice park bench in a nearby city where a girl known as Saki Fujita spent her last evening. I think I would like to spend my last evening there as well.


	29. Ryuto & Yuki

**A/N: **I'm not sure why, but of everything I've written for this collection so far, this is the one that really hit me in the gut. It's possible that it's because it features children and in my mind, sad things are much more poignant when they involve children. There's one section in here that I think just says everything I wanted to convey with this story. I'll leave it to your imagination which part it is.

Also, for a collection that's based upon vocal synthesizers, I use surprisingly few songs featuring them for inspiration.

EDIT: Ah, I'm such an idiot. If you happened to see this chapter before I edited it, then I profusely apologize. I forgot to remove some of my stupid comments I make to myself and the things I use as place holders. Gosh, I'm so mortified right now...

Thousands of thank-yous must be extended to Riv and Ten-Ten for being generally awesome in all aspects and leaving me lovely reviews.

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><p>Couple: Ryuto &amp; Yuki<p>

Song: Accelerated Fall (ft. Luo Tianyi) - Yu Jian Lui

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><p>There used to be a day called Christmas.<p>

Mommy and daddy can't remember it; big sis can't remember it; no one I've ever talked to can remember it, not even the old lady who lives down the street. I only know about it because my social studies teacher told us all about it. Social studies is my favorite class in school. I got a hundred percent on my last test. Daddy was super proud and put it on the fridge for everyone to see. It stayed up there for a whole week. Mommy said that even the baby was proud of me; he kicked whenever she walked past it.

That test was about ancient holidays. My favorite is Christmas.

According to the history books, people used to decorate everything with these little flashing lights; houses, parks, and even whole skyscrapers. Families would set up a tree in one room in the house and decorate that with lights too. There were carols and hot chocolate and family and lots of food and, and a whole bunch of wonderful things. Then to top off all the wonderful things, on December 25th St. Nick would come and leave presents for everyone. I want to see Christmas one day.

I think my favorite part would be the tree. Seeing a real, live tree every day…having the tree in your _house_…it's like a dream come true. Mommy and daddy don't make enough money to buy trees; only rich people get to do that.

Today is December 25th.

I woke up hoping that it would be Christmas.

It's not.

I don't like what they replaced Christmas with. Christmas sounds like lots and lots of fun; the Day of Ascensions is no fun at all. Every year as December 25th comes closer I see lots of people crying. When I was little I didn't understand why, but when I turned seven years old daddy let me come to one of the observation decks to watch the ceremony. I was super excited – previous years, mommy, daddy, and big sis had gone but they always told me I was too little.

As we waited for the festival to start, I couldn't stand still. At school my friends and I always talked about the Day of Ascensions but when we asked the teachers about it, they wouldn't explain anything. It always made me super mad. The last few seconds before noon were the slowest seconds of my life.

When the clock struck noon, the Day of Ascensions officially started and I held my breath, so excited to see everything I had ever missed.

Now I wish that daddy hadn't taken me.

I like Christmas much, much better than the Day of Ascensions. I wish we could go back to Christmas. I don't like being sad.

This year is especially bad. For weeks now, daddy and mommy have been keeping track of how many days are left. I have too, but I pretend that I haven't; mommy, daddy, and big sis like it better when I'm smiling, so I try to do that as much as possible instead of frowning.

But I can't spend too much time with big sis. When I'm with her it's really hard to smile. Besides, there are lots of other people she wants to hang out with – her friends, mommy and daddy, and the boy she has a crush on. But at the same time, I want to be selfish and keep her all to myself.

She turned twenty years old this year.

It's her turn to participate in the Ascensions.

Or at least the chance is there. Not everyone has to participate. On December 24th – what was once Christmas Eve – it's as if everything stops. We have the day off from school and every store is closed. The only people you'll see on the streets are the Uriel.

I like mail a whole bunch. It reminds me of social studies 'cause a lot of the history we know is from the letters people in the past sent. Sometimes I wonder if the letters I send will end up in a history book for another kid. I think that would be really amazing.

I don't like the mail that the Uriel deliver.

Yesterday was December 24th.

It used to be known as Christmas Eve, but now it's replaced with another holiday. We don't have a name for it though; we don't like to think about it.

My whole family sat by the window together and watched as the Uriel slowly made their way down the street. A lot of big sis' friends live on this street; they turned twenty this year too. The closer the Uriel got, the quieter everyone got. I was scared.

I love big sis a whole bunch. I didn't want her to participate in the Ascensions.

Mommy and daddy warned me that it could happen. Big sis only ever got average grades in school – she never got a hundred percent on her social studies tests – she's not good at sports, and she gets sick when she has to go in front of a crowd of people. One of my best friends told me that it's the people who aren't good at things that are picked first to participate in the Ascensions. I punched him in the face when he said that. We're not friends any more.

When the Uriel stopped in front of our mailbox, everything stopped with him. We were all looking at the mailbag he had hanging off his shoulder. There was a loud whooshing sound in my head that blocked out any outside noises. I couldn't pull my eyes away as I watched the man check our house number three times before reaching into his bag. There was a flash of white before he closed the mailbox and moved onto the next house.

Both mommy and daddy started crying. Big sis just sat there with a blank expression on her face. When the Uriel turned the corner, big sis suddenly ran outside and flung the mailbox open. I followed after her and watched as she quickly opened the white envelope. I'm not sure why she did it. She knew what it said.

White means that you have to participate in the Day of Ascensions.

Up and down the street, people came out of their houses, some were checking their mailboxes and others were simply looking to see who was chosen. All around me, I heard both crying and shouts of happiness; some people on our street were chosen, others were not.

Suddenly, the boy that big sis had a crush on came running up. He was smiling really, really wide. In his hands he held a red envelope. When he saw that big sis was holding a white one, his smile fell and he began to apologize. I thought big sis was finally going to confess her feelings for him – she had liked him for a long time. Instead, she turned to him, gave him a big smile and congratulated him.

I've always liked big sis' smiles. They're really pretty and make big sis look really pretty. This smile looked the same as always, but it made big sis really ugly. When I looked at her ugly face, I started crying. Through my tears, I overheard big sis congratulate her crush one more time before she scooped me into her arms and walked back towards the house.

I clung to big sis for a long time and cried. She kept patting my head and telling me that everything was alright. But every time I looked up at her, her face was ugly and I just started crying more. The last thing I remember seeing was her face with the ugly smile.

At some point, I feel asleep and when I woke up, big sis was gone. I wanted to cry some more, but my eyes were really dry and wouldn't make tears. It was still dark outside, but I wasn't sleepy any more. In my heart, I hoped that big sis was just sleeping in her room, but when I went there, I didn't find her. Everything else about her room was exactly the same as always; the only thing that was missing was her. It hurt too much to stand there, so I ran away as quickly as possible.

The next place I went was the kitchen. It was there that I found the note. It wasn't from big sis like I expected – it was from daddy. When I read the words, for some reason my heart hurt really, really bad.

'Yuki – You know the hospital down the street? Your baby brother is coming into the world. Mommy is there right now and daddy is with her. Whenever you're ready, come to the hospital. Tell the nurse at the front desk mommy's name and she'll help you find us. Remember that we love you very much.'

Nowhere in his letter did daddy mention big sis or the Day of Ascensions. He wasn't going to watch her ceremony. In that moment, I decided that it would be my job to watch the ceremony. Big sis was always bad in front of crowds and the Day of Ascensions ceremony always has a lot of people watching. I would have to be there to make sure that she was okay and help her if she got sick in front of the crowd.

That's why, for hours now, I've been standing here waiting on one of the observation decks. The sky has gotten lighter and lighter as the minutes tick away. More people have joined me. Some of them are my age; some of them are even younger. I wonder if this is anyone's first time seeing the Ascensions. No one is talking. I don't think I've ever heard anything this quiet. The quiet can be just as scary as being alone.

Even though the event hasn't started, I hold my umbrella over my head. Everyone around me is also holding an umbrella. Anyone who comes to the observation platform on the Day of Ascensions needs an umbrella. If you don't bring one, you're going to get your clothes dirty and then your parents will get mad at you. I don't like it when mommy and daddy are mad at me.

The sun is getting really close to the highest point in the sky, so it's almost noon. For some reason, my eyes are drawn to the Tower of the Heavens again. It's actually really pretty; the bottom is a dark red and as it gets higher, it fades to white until it hides within the clouds. All around the bottom, huge black slabs of rock have been stuck in the ground. They're there especially for today. Without them, the Day of Ascensions would be even messier.

I wonder where big sis is in the tower – has she made it to the top already? Is it true that they make you walk up a whole bunch of stairs in order to reach the top? Do heights make her sick like talking in front of people does? If she gets scared and starts crying, will the Samael pat her head and make her feel better? If I yell from down here, will she hear me all the way up there?

My science teacher told me that even with how fast is it, sound probably doesn't reach up to the top of the tower before fading away. A book I read told me the exact same thing, so it's gotta be the truth. Even so, I still want to try calling for big sis. If she heard me and knew that she wasn't alone, I think that would help her stop crying.

Or maybe she's not crying; maybe she's smiling and her face is all ugly. If she heard me, would she stop smiling and start crying instead? Daddy always told me that it's not nice to make people cry, but I don't like big sis' ugly smile. It makes me sad.

Suddenly, a man next to me gasps and a second later, the bells of a nearby clock tower start ringing. I can't help but count the chimes of the bell. When I reach eleven, I hold my breath. Half a second later another chime sounds. It's noon.

The Day of Ascensions has officially begun.

Just as the last chime fades away, the first streak of white emerges from the tower. The silence feels heavier now than before and everyone's eyes follow as the figure falls. Slowly, we're able to make out the shape better as it changes from a vague white speck in the sky into a form that everyone knows all too well.

It is the first of the Raphael.

I try to get a look at the person's face, but they're facing away from me. Soon though, I recognize that it's a boy. I feel both relieved and sad that big sis isn't the first one. Being first is a special privilege, but it's also the scariest. Even though I don't know him, I watch the boy's fall. When he falls past the observation deck, a strong gust of wind ruffles my hair and tries to rip the umbrella from my hands. A second later, he descends behind the tall walls surrounding the Tower of the Heavens.

Then there's a splat.

It's an icky sound. I don't like it.

A second later, the sound of tiny drops of blood hitting my umbrella fills my ears. Some of it gets on my face and the rest falls on the other people around me. Blood doesn't sound or feel anything like rain. It's scary. I wish daddy and mommy were here.

Suddenly, the sky is filled with white streaks. All the people after the first Raphael aren't as important, so they have to go in clumps. They all start as white specks before becoming people and then turning into icky splats.

It's raining human bodies.

Every time one of the figures rushes past me, I try to see their face. They've all been changed into the white robes that let people know that they're a Raphael, but you can see their faces just fine. One time, I recognize one of big sis' friends. I don't remember her name, but a couple months ago when she came to visit, she gave me a piece of candy. I like her.

Then she descends behind the black wall.

Splat.

Her blood drizzles on me like everyone else's has. Even though I knew her, I still don't like the feeling of her blood on my skin. Does that make me a bad person? I don't know why, but as her blood continues to drizzle down, I let my umbrella drop from my hands. I don't bother to pick it up again.

I watch as people fall to the ground. A few of them I recognize, most are strangers. None of them are my sister. I have to stay until I see her; she has to know that she's not alone. She always gets sick in front of crowds. I have to be there for her so I can comfort her and tell her it's okay; I get butterflies in my stomach too.

The sound that people are making now is dull and not as icky. I know that the reason for this is because the bodies are starting to pile up behind the wall, but I can't help but be grateful; their bodies hitting the concrete was hurting my ears. There are so many bodies now that I can see some of them peeking over the rim of the wall. Some of their faces are calm; some are sad; some are terrified.

None of them are my sister.

Is it possible that I missed her?

Nighttime is coming and the number of Raphaels dropping from the tower has gone down a whole bunch. I watch as another group of white streaks start their descent towards the ground. As they come hurtling closer, I feel my chest tighten.

The girl directly in front of me has her hair tied back in two loose pigtails. Her hair ties are decorated with bright yellow beads. They're the exact same as the ones that I wear in my hair all the time. About a year ago, big sis and I went to the mall and bought them together; I even paid my own money for them. Big sis was so proud of me and talked about how we could wear matching outfits along with matching hair ties.

The girl falling towards the ground is big sis.

Anything I may have wanted to say to her is lost as she grows closer and closer. I search all over to see if her robes are covered in puke. No matter what, every time she gets in front of a crowd, she gets sick. To my surprise, her robe is as pretty and white as every other person I've seen fall from the tower today. She managed to overcome her fear.

Then suddenly, she's right in front of me. For a moment, I can see her perfectly. She has been crying but now her eyes are clear as she stares up at the sky. Her face is pretty again.

"You got over your fear of being in front of crowds. Good job big sis. Let's go get ice cream to celebrate. I'll even pay for it with my own money, okay? Won't you be proud of me, just like the day I bought the hair ties by myself?"

My lips move even though I don't tell them to. Big sis' face doesn't change and a second later, she shoots past me.

Splat.

I can see her face above the wall. It's exactly as it was when she was falling only now it's covered in blood. Blood is also falling on my head. A few seconds later, another body falls on top of my sister and I can no longer see her.

She has finished her Day of Ascension.

She's dead.

For two years, I've been aware this could happen. I've been preparing myself to be strong. I won't cry. Big sis never liked it when I cried. For her, I won't cry.

I won't.

I turn away from the platform and head to street level. Daddy said that he and mommy were at the hospital down the street. That's only a five minute walk from here; I should be okay going by myself. I'm covered in sticky blood, but mommy and daddy might worry if I take too long to get to the hospital. Besides, it's getting dark and I don't like being alone in the dark.

When I step into the hospital lobby, the nurse looks at me for a second before rushing forward and scooping me into her arms. It reminds me of big sis. I'm not supposed to cry. I have to be strong. It makes me sad. The nurse lady leads me to a shower and tells me to clean off. I don't want to get in the water; it'll wash away big sis' blood. It's the last thing I have left of her.

I tell the nurse lady that and her eyes get sad before she slowly agrees to let me not shower for a little bit. I tell her my mommy's name, just like daddy told me to do in the letter. Suddenly she's smiling as she takes my blood-splattered hand and begins to lead me down a long, white hallway. We only stop when we reach a long window that lets us look into a room. I have to stand on my tip-toes to see.

I'm looking at a room of babies.

The nurse is pointing to one of the little bundles near the back. My eyes follow her finger and I find myself staring at a red little face, scrunched up as if it's crying. The name plate says that the little one's name is 'Ryuto'.

"That's your baby brother."

It's the nurse talking again. I can't respond to her. Instead, I stare at the tiny, squirming thing behind the glass. He's my baby brother – he's mommy and daddy's son.

His face is red.

My face is red.

Big sis' face is red.

I wonder if mommy and daddy hate him.

Why else would they give birth to him?

I'm crying now.

One. Two. Three. Four.

Mommy. Daddy. Big sis. Me.

Mommy. Daddy. Baby brother. Me.

One. Two. Three. Four.

It's all the same; everything's exactly the same.

It's stupid to want Christmas. It only makes you sad.

"Happy birthday baby brother…and happy Day of Ascensions."


	30. Lui x Yuuma

**A/N: **I'm trying to get this collection back to what it was originally intended as (although there's no way I can go back to the daily update deal). Now, what that means I'm not entirely sure, but I'm doing my best to ensure that writing for this collection stays something enjoyable rather than becoming a chore or another source of stress.

Of further note, this particular one-shot takes place in a setting that I've written several stories in before. I don't believe it's necessary to read them in order to understand what's going on here (if you are confused, you can probably reduce your confusion by mentally replacing every instance of 'cambia' with 'magic'), but if you have interest, one of them is a one-shot titled "Eyes of a Demon" and the others can be found in my "Ryuchu's Random Collection".

That out of the way, hi Vocaloid section, it's been a long time. Feel free to hate me for my long absence.

You know who you _shouldn't_ hate? Ten-Ten, arthie2001, and iDon'tCare because they are wonderful individuals who leave wonderful reviews and make me smile. Thank you so much!

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><p>Couple: LuiYuuma

Song: White Knight (ft. Miku Hatsune) - AkiGlancy

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><p>The ache that seeped into Lui's body as he lay on his bed and stared up at the ceiling of his room was more potent than anything he had ever experienced before; even the shallow, measured breaths that inflated his chest a fraction of an inch seemed to make everything tighten in displeasure. For two nights now he had been able to resist the lure of sleep, the lure of losing conscious control of himself, but his body would be denied no longer; it was, after all, still that of a weak, long malnourished twelve-year-old.<p>

Slowly, carefully, he allowed his eyes to close, exchanging the weak glow of moonlight that streamed into his window for the darkness of unconsciousness. His awareness of the world reduced until the only thing he was conscious of was the blood pumping slowly through his veins and the harvestable energy contained therein. He tried desperately to turn himself away from this distraction and submit himself wholly to sleep, even employing a few of the mental meditation techniques an instructor had taught him recently, but his power would not be denied.

Even though his instructors told him time and again that his daily lessons would drain his cambia resources, the forces within him never seemed to lessen in the slightest. He worried constantly – was he even more of a demon than all the other mages in the world? Would even the salvation offered by The Academy be inadequate to exercise that which he most feared?

Alone in dark of his mind and faced with such raw energy, the fears and frustrations only grew louder until he heard nothing but the screams of his cambia pounding throughout his body. He begged his eyes to open so he could escape the confines of his own mind, but the training of the day robbed his physical shell of the power to do even that.

The harder he tried to fight it back, the higher in pitch the screaming seemed to grow. Lui's nightmares came to pass as he felt the power within him react violently to his unbidden call. Heat crawled to the surface of his skin as the choleric energy within him consumed all else.

Again.

It was going to happen again.

People were going to burn.

Desperately he fought against the raising power, trying to call upon the silence of his mind and the cooling powers of the phlegmatic. However, any and all other cambia he called upon were quickly consumed and converted, turning his own power against him and causing the first flames to flicker to life on exposed patches of his skin. Panic set in as Lui _felt_ every inch of himself being consumed by the terrifying choleric energy.

The flames.

He couldn't control them.

He was going to burn to death.

He was going to burn to death.

He was going to burn-!

And suddenly, there was silence.

The uncontrollable scream that had been his entire existence for the past several moments simply dissipated into nothingness, the heat fleeing with it. It felt as if Lui had been submerged in cold water – it was shocking and stole his breath away but it also cradled him and made his entire body weightless. His mind hazily informed him that this was some sort of assault, an internal mage was influencing his phlegmatic cambium, but he found himself unable to offer any resistance. He was trapped in a bubble of perfectly comfortable silence that protected from his self-produced flames.

No, not silence.

The edges of Lui's consciousness slowly became aware of the sound of a voice. It offered no words, instead sounding in a low hum that seemed to hover at the very edge of the human voice register. Lui clung to that voice and let it wash over him, his consciousness seeming to rock and sway like waves with each minute adjustment to pitch the singer made. What Lui had initially perceived as a threat was quickly revealed for the salvation that it was as his mind finally provided him with the answer of where he knew the voice from.

Yuuma: the mage who had rescued him and brought him to The Academy in the first place. Lui still wasn't sure what he would classify his relation to Yuuma as, but in that moment Lui could have wept for joy at the sound of that voice. As soon as Yuuma had deposited him at his new home and training ground, he had been sent on a mission, leaving Lui bereft of even the tiniest shred of his old life. No one at The Academy had seen what the villagers had done to him – what he had done to them; none of them could understand just how much the power of the flames inside him terrified him.

But Yuuma, he could. He was that final thread left to Lui; he was the reminder that he had once been human and he could possibly return to that.

At least that was the lie Lui kept gorging himself on.

Slowly, the humming came to an end and the voice switched over to a jaunty whistle instead. Instantly, energy seemed to flood into Lui and a smile colored his lips. He had been taught about this earlier today. Yuuma was influencing his sanguine cambium, pushing the choleric aside and replacing it with brighter emotions. Even though he could have opened his eyes at any time, he chose instead to allow the song to enrapture him and push away the negativity that had been so all consuming up to this point. He even found himself gently tapping out the beat of the song on his mattress.

When the last notes of the song melted into the air, Lui allowed his eyes to open for the first time since his ordeal began, a smile still coloring his lips. He found his suspicions of the voice's owner quickly confirmed as he found himself staring into the golden eyes of Yuuma, the eyes that marked him as the mage he was. However, the serious expression on Yuuma's face caused the corners of his smile to twitch downward instantly as he slowly pulled himself into a sitting position.

"Uhm…" He began slowly, suddenly finding it difficult to hold Yuuma's gaze, "Thank you for saving me. Again."

"How could you have been sure that it was I?" Yuuma's voice wasn't unpleasant, but it did carry the tone of a school master more so than a friend, "What if it had been another mage attempting to catch you off guard? Surely you haven't been taught to give in that easily to the assault of an internal mage."

"No, of course I haven't…but this is The Academy. For someone to reach me they would have to get through all the security measures and…and they could have just let me kill myself with the flames. But they didn't, so I figured they were only intending to help me…probably."

"You are naïve, you realize this?"

Lui had no response for that, instead casting his eyes downward to his bed sheets. Now that Yuuma was pointing them out, he quickly realized all the mistakes he had just made. If Yuuma _had_ been an enemy mage of some sort, Lui would have found himself dead ten times over. As the failure settled over him, every ache made itself known again and the gaze of the older mage seemed to burn into him. He could only think of one way to respond.

"I'm sorry."

The apology hung heavy in the air and for several moments there was silence before a sigh from Yuuma broke the tension. The sound was so human, so beyond the realms of what Lui associated with Yuuma that his gaze once more settled on the older man. Yuuma's face remained as impassive as ever, but the undercurrent of criticism in his expression had been replaced with one of exhaustion. Abruptly, Lui realized that he was still in his traveling cloak; it was likely that he had just returned from his mission. An involuntary shudder of guilt and dread ran down Lui's spine. If Yuuma hadn't been there…

"I didn't come here to criticize you," Yuuma stated, breaking Lui away from his thoughts, "I am your teacher. It is my duty to watch over you until you are able to control your cambium of your own volition."

"I know," Lui responded, his voice easily betraying that knowing it and believing it were two completely separate entities.

"Are you still finding it difficult to control your powers?"

"…Yes," Lui admitted after a pregnant pause, "Even though I'm physically exhausted at the end of each day, my cambium never seem to calm themselves…especially the choleric one. No matter what I do, it always seems to override the others."

"Hence the flames that were crawling all over your skin before I stepped in."

"Yeah, I guess…"

Silence fell once more as Lui struggled with the question that had been slowly searing him from the inside out since he had set foot in The Academy a mere few weeks ago. Yuuma was most likely the only person that he could bring himself to pose the question to, but he also feared that he would answer in the exact way he expected. Lui knew that the demons that raged within him would never allow him to return to a normal life. However, the fear of having another person confirm it, to have them say it aloud, froze his tongue every time.

He would bear the burden of being a monster so his delusion could live on a little longer.

"Do you wish that you had killed yourself?"

The question broke through the air and made Lui inhale sharply. Almost unconsciously, his hand found its way to his hip, searching for the dagger that Yuuma had given to him along with two options: become a mage of The Academy or kill yourself. At the time, he had chosen to keep on living, believing that he might be able to control the powers within him; if he had the knife now, would he still hold onto that hope?

"I…don't know."

"It's a yes or no question."

"I don't have a yes or no answer for you."

"Because you are simply running away again."

"I'm not running from anything!" Lui responded, his temper flaring within his chest as he balled his fists, "I don't know means that I don't know, I'm not sure! Maybe it would have been better, been easier, if I had just done it! Maybe if I had been a coward! Maybe then the demons would-"

Lui's rant came to an abrupt end as tears choked the rest of his words and thoughts. He fought to hold them in, but the frustrations of the past few weeks needed an outlet and within second he found himself sobbing uncontrollably into his knees. Words began to tumble from his mouth along with the sobs.

"I just want them to stop! I want them to quiet down! I can't even be a normal mage! I can't- I can't even blend in with the demons of the world! I can't control it anymore. I'm scared! I'm so scared! I'm going to kill again! People are going to burn! I want out! Please...please...help me!"

Words once more dissolved into incoherent wails as time lost all meaning to Lui. His frustrations were laid bare as his tantrum continued until there were no more tears to shed and his throat was hoarse from yelling. Slowly, he allowed himself to uncoil his arms from around his knees, but he refused to even glance in the direction of the older mage.

Why?

Why was it that the older man always knew exactly how to get under his skin and make him admit things he didn't want to? The more time Lui spent with him, the more his title for the older man became muddled: savior, tormenter, teacher, older brother, enigma.

How was it possible to hate and love someone so equally?

"It's okay."

Although the voice was surprising, it was the gentle pressure of Yuuma seating himself on his bed that forced Lui's gaze in his direction. It was possible that Lui was simply imagining it, but Yuuma's gaze seemed to be softened with…understanding?

"It's okay," He repeated in a measured tone, "For now, lay down. Your body must be physically exhausted. The first few weeks are always the most merciless."

Slowly, almost dumbly, Lui nodded his head and worked himself under his covers, his mind once again catching on all his aches and pains now that he had been reminded of them. He had expected a more complicated lecture from Yuuma – was 'it's okay' truly his only response to this whole situation?

Stranger still, why did it feel like Yuuma saying that was enough?

As soon as Lui was settled, he was startled to hear Yuuma begin to hum again, a low rumbling sound that seemed to reverberate with the very timbers and stones of Lui's room. Fearing another test, he quickly erected several makeshift emotional barriers to protect his cambium from being influence and put all his mental capacities on high alert. However, as the song continued on, Lui felt his defenses slowly fall and his body involuntarily relax.

There was no power contained in the song Yuuma was singing. Further still, it was a song that Lui recognized; a song that any child that grew up in the countryside knew some variation of. He could remember all the times his mother had sang this very lullaby for him and his little sister; he could remember how many night time terrors had fallen victim to this song.

It was so sublimely normal.

It was so sublimely human.

The choking feeling of tears once again found its way into Lui's throat, but his body was no longer able to answer the request. Instead, he felt his eyelids grow heavy as memories washed over him. If he imagined hard enough, he was a blue-eyed child once again, as carefree as all the other children in the world. No longer was he subjected to the terrifying voices of the demons ragging inside him; now the only battle he fought was against the siren song of sleep.

As his consciousness began to fade, he felt Yuuma's weight shift off his bed and the soothing song come to an end. Hazily, he heard words so mundane, so normal, that Lui had feared he would not be allowed to hear in his new life as a mage – as a demon.

"Good night Lui. Pleasant dreams."


End file.
